rEA\PTATION 

BY:.RIGHAED  :  BAGOT 


I'L 


TEMPTATION 


TEMPTATION 


RICHARD    BAGOT 

AUTHOR   OF 
"CASTING   OF   NETS,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

1907 


TEMPTATION 


CHAPTER  I 

TN  a  by-street  of  the  ancient  city  of  Viterbo,  its  exterior 
-^  remarkable  for  nothing  unless  it  were  a  heavy  portico  of 
Renaissance  architecture,  stands  a  grim,  square  building  a  story 
or  so  higher  than  the  houses  on  either  side  of  it. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  Palazzo  Vitali  was 
one  of  the  residences  of  a  powerful  family  which,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  rise  of  the  great  house  of  Barberini,  would  in  all  proba- 
bility have  succeeded  in  seating  one  of  its  members  on  the  Papal 
throne. 

Cardinal  Astorre  Vitali,  in  the  Conclave  following  the  death  of 
the  Ludovisi  Pope,  Gregory  XV.,  was  among  the  most  prominent 
of  the  candidates  in  the  Sacred  College  for  election  to  the  Chair 
of  St  Peter.  The  influence  of  France,  however,  in  the  Conclave, 
secured  to  a  Cardinal  of  the  Barberini  family  the  Papal  tiara,  and 
Cardinal  Astorre  did  not  very  long  survive  the  disappointment  in 
his  ambition  to  reign  over  Rome  and  the  Catholic  world. 

The  Cardinal's  Roman  palace  was  sold  at  his  death  to  his 
kinsman,  Monsignor  Pamphili,  afterwards  Pope  Innocent  X.,  who 
subsequently  demolished  it  in  order  to  enlarge  the  neighbouring 
Pamphili  residence  into  the  stately  Palazzo  Pamphili  as  it  now 
exists ;  whence  Donna  Olimpia  Pamphili,  of  famous  or  rather 
infamous  memory,  trafficked  in  the  rich  benefices  of  the  Church, 
sold  episcopal  sees  to  the  highest  bidders,  and  in  these  and 
other  matters  caused  scandal  generally  throughout  Christendom. 

The  once  extensive  domains  of  the  Vitali  family  had  long 
passed  into  the  hands  of  other  families  connected  with  it  by 
marriage,  or  into  those  of  strangers.  Cardinal  Astorre's  palace 
and  property  at  Viterbo,  however,  had  remained  in  the  possession 
of  Casa  Vitali,  and  the  Cardinal's   arms  yet  surmounted  the 

A 


2  TEMPTATION 

heavy  portico  declared  by  the  Viterbesi  to  be  the  work  of 
Bramante,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  famous  architect 
had  been  dead  nearly  a  hundred  years  when  Cardinal  Astorre 
Vitali  built  his  palace  ;  a  far  inferior  genius,  to  wit,  Bernini, 
being  in  all  probability  responsible  for  its  rococo  style. 

Once  inside  the  courtyard  of  the  palace,  the  forbidding  im- 
pression created  by  its  exterior  faded.  Immediately  opposite  the 
great  entrance  a  massive,  yet  graceful  open  loggia  disclosed  a 
vista  of  terraced  gardens,  of  formal  hedges  of  box  and  shady  ilex 
avenues ;  while,  beyond  these,  a  vast  tract  of  open  country — hill, 
dale,  and  woodland — s])read  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see. 

The  fact  that  the  gardens  were  no  gardens,  but  rather  a  wilder- 
ness in  which  everything  grew  at  its  own  sweet  will  and  pleasure, 
that  the  box  hedges  were  neglected  in  a  manner  sufficient  to 
drive  a  topiary  gardener  mad,  and  that  the  terraces  were  tracks 
of  lush  weeds  broken  here  and  there  by  flights  of  crumbling  stone 
steps,  added  rather  than  the  reverse  to  the  fascination  of  the 
place.  If  the  first  thought  of  a  foreign,  and  especially  of  an 
English  visitor  to  the  gardens  of  Palazzo  Vitali  was  apt  to  take 
the  form  of  regret  that  these  should  be  so  neglected,  the  next 
thought,  were  the  visitor  possessed  of  an  artistic  sense,  would 
infallibly  be  to  hope  that  nobody  would  ever  think  it  necessary  to 
put  them  into  order. 

Not  many  foreigners,  however,  do  more  than  visit  the  principal 
monuments  of  Viterbo,  and  very  few  have  occasion  to  penetrate 
into  that  quarter  of  the  town  where  Palazzo  Vitali  may  be  seen 
standing  out  grim  and  forbidding  amid  the  squalid  dwellings 
surrounding  it. 

The  actual  possessor  of  Cardinal  Astorre's  palace.  Count  Ugo 
Vitali,  was  a  very  good  specimen  of  the  Italian  petite  noblesse, 
the  small  nobility  of  the  provinces,  of  which  the  great  world  of 
Rome  and  the  other  large  cities  of  Italy  know  little  and  care  less. 
A  robust,  handsome  man  of  little  over  thirty.  Count  Ugo  could 
never  have  been  mistaken  for  anything  else  than  a  "  provincial." 
His  face  was  ruddy  and  sun-burned,  and  his  hands  brown  with  a 
brownness  that  rarely  knew  gloves.  Altogether  the  owner  of 
Palazzo  Vitali  was  the  true  type  of  the  campagnuolo  who  was  also 


TEMPTATION  3 

a  gentleman  by  birth  and  descent,  and  whose  good  blood  showed 
itself  in  his  easy,  simple  manner,  and  independent  bearing. 

Although  it  was  scarcely  yet  seven  o'clock,  and  the  dew  was 
still  lying  on  the  roses  and  box  hedges  in  the  gardens  of  Palazzo 
Vitali  in  places  as  yet  untouched  by  the  rays  of  the  May  sun, 
Count  Ugo  had  been  round  and  about  his  property  since  shortly 
after  daybreak.  He  kept  no  agent — \Cv&  fattoi-e  being  one  of  his 
own  peasants  having  somewhat  more  education  than  the  rest — 
preferring  to  occupy  himself  in  person  with  the  management  and 
superintendence  of  his  lands,  and  not  disdaining,  when  necessity 
arose,  to  overlook  the  peasants  at  work  in  his  vineyards  or  among 
his  crops  of  hay  and  corn. 

On  this  particular  May  morning,  Ugo  Vitali  had  been  engaged 
in  minutely  inspecting  some  acres  of  vines,  and  superintending 
the  dressing  of  them  with  the  solution  of  sulphate  of  copper 
which  was  to  protect  them  against  the  dreaded  phylloxera.  He 
was  returning  to  Palazzo  Vitali  fresh  from  the  sloping  vineyards 
lying  immediately  below  the  gardens,  and  the  sweet,  dewy  scent 
of  the  country  seemed  to  chng  to  him  as  he  ascended  the  steps 
leading  to  the  loggia  of  the  palace. 

As  he  crossed  the  terrace,  an  old  man,  shabbily  clad  in  a  pair 
of  ill-brushed  black  trousers  and  an  alpaca  jacket  of  the  same 
colour,  advanced  from  the  house  to  meet  him. 

"  Signorino,"  he  began — Count  Ugo  had  been  a  married  man 
for  nearly  three  years,  but  all  the  older  servants,  and,  indeed, 
most  of  his  people  continued  to  address  him  as  "  signorino  "  all 
the  same — "Signorino,  the  signora  contessa  desired  me  to  tell 
you  that  she  did  not  wish  to  be  disturbed  till  the  breakfast  hour. 
Emilia  says  that  the  signora  has  slept  ill." 

Ugo  nodded.  "  Very  well,"  he  replied,  "  I  shall  not  disturb 
her.  After  all,  she  is  right ;  it  is  early  yet,  A  cup  of  black 
coffee  in  my  room,  Taddeo.  I  suppose,"  he  added,  "  that  the 
signora  contessa  will  come  to  breakfast  ?  " 

The  old  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Mah  I "  he  ejaculated, 
"  I  know  nothing,  except  that  she  is  not  to  be  disturbed — and 
the  sun  risen  nearly  five  hours  ago  ! " 

Count  Ugo's  eyes  gleamed  with  a  quick  look  of  annoyance. 


4  TEMPTATION 

"  Bring  the  coffee  to  my  room,"  he  said  briefly,  and  the  man 
retreated  across  the  courtyard  to  the  servants'  quarters. 

"Taddeo  becomes  detestable,"  Ugo  said  to  himself. 
"  Affection  in  an  old  servant  is  all  very  well ;  but  when  it  takes 
the  form  of  jealousy  it  is  tiresome." 

Count  Vitali,  in  the  opinion  of  many  of  those  who  happened  to 
be  of  his  own  class,  had  married  beneath  him ;  inasmuch  as  his 
wife  had  not  been  of  noble  birth,  neither  had  she  brought  him 
a  fortune  which  could  be  regarded  as  an  equivalent  for  this 
deficiency. 

The  marriage  had  been,  at  any  rate  on  his  part,  one  of  love ; 
and  if  Cristina  Frezzi,  the  daughter  of  a  well-to-do  mercante  di 
campagna,  had  married  him  not  without  a  sense  of  satisfaction 
that  by  doing  so  she  was  turning  herself  into  a  "  signora 
contessa,"  there  had  been  at  all  events  quite  enough  of  passion  in 
her  love  to  satisfy  him  that  she  reciprocated  his  own. 

For  the  first  year  or  so  everything  had  gone  smoothly.  The 
society  of  Viterbo  was  small,  and,  of  course,  absolutely  provincial 
in  its  tastes  and  tone.  A  certain  number  of  families  had  never 
received  the  new  Contessa  Vitali  into  their  intimacy,  ostensibly 
because  she  was  not  "  noble,"  but  possibly  also  because  they 
had  hoped  that  Ugo  Vitali  would  ally  himself  with  one  of  them- 
selves. There  was  no  disputing  the  point  as  to  Countess  Vitali 
being  a  beautiful  woman,  but  it  was  a  point  conceded  with  a 
reservation.  There  were  those  who  said,  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders,  that  Countess  Ugo's  beauty  was  of  a  type  to  be  seen 
any  day  among  the  peasants  in  the  Ciociaria ;  and  that  it  could 
equally  be  found  on  the  steps  of  the  Piazzc  di  Spagna  in  Rome 
any  day  during  the  tourist  season. 

Count  Vitali  had  not  greatly  troubled  himself  as  to  what  might 
or  might  not  be  said  by  the  Viterbesi  concerning  the  wife  he  had 
chosen.  After  his  marriage  he  had  taken  her  to  Naples  for  the 
honeymoon,  and  had  then  brought  her  back  to  Palazzo  Vitali  in 
order  to  resume  his  usual  life.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had 
grudged  the  interruption  in  his  agricultural  pursuits.  They  re- 
presented to  him  a  passion  older  and  more  intimate  than  that  of 
love,  and  he  was  never  really  happy  when  away  from  them. 


TEMPTATION  5 

It  was  only  towards  the  end  of  the  second  year  of  his  married 
life  that  he  had  become  conscious  of  a  change  in  his  wife  which 
he  was  scarcely  able  to  define.  It  was  not  due  to  any  diminution 
of  affection  towards  himself,  so  far  as  he  was  able  to  judge  ;  and 
Ugo  put  it  down  in  his  own  mind  as  the  effect  of  disappointment — 
not  with  her  life  or  surroundings,  indeed,  for  the  possibility  of 
such  a  thing  would  never  have  occurred  to  him — but  at  the  fact 
that  no  child  had  hitherto  been  born  to  them.  It  was  perfectly 
natural,  he  told  himself,  that  Cristina  should  take  this  to  heart, 
and  that  it  should  make  her  at  times  irritable,  and  less  easy  to 
please  than  she  had  been  in  the  earlier  days  of  their  life  together. 
In  the  meantime  he  contented  himself  with  the  thought  that  this 
disappointment  would  probably  be  removed  in  due  course,  and 
that  when  it  was  so,  Cristina  would  be  more  contented,  and  begin 
to  take  interest  again  in  her  home  life. 

Instead  of  going  to  his  wife's  rooms  as  he  had  intended,  Ugo 
betook  himself  to  the  apartment  on  the  ground  floor,  in  which  he 
transacted  his  business  and  discussed  matters  connected  with  his 
estate  with  his  faf^ore. 

He  had  not  been  there  very  long  before  Taddeo  entered  the 
room,  bringing  with  him  the  coffee,  and  also  the  morning's  post 
which  consisted,  apparently,  of  the  newspapers  from  Rome  of  the 
previous  evening,  and  a  few  circulars.  Count  Vitali  poured  him- 
self out  some  coffee  from  a  quaintly  chased  copper  coffee-pot.  He 
was  proceeding  to  open  a  paper  in  order  to  learn  the  latest  news 
from  the  outside  world,  when  his  glance  fell  upon  a  black- 
bordered  envelope  lying  partially  concealed  among  the  circulars 
and  advertisements  of  agricultural  implements  of  which,  as  a  rule, 
his  correspondence  chiefly  consisted. 

On  examining  it,  he  saw  that  it  bore  the  Roman  post-mark, 
and  was  addressed  in  a  handwriting  unknown  to  him.  A  moment 
or  two  later,  after  glancing  through  the  contents  of  the  letter,  he 
sprung  to  his  feet  with  an  exclamation  of  astonishment  and 
delight.  The  coffee  remained  untasted  while  Ugo  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  reading  and  re-reading  the  few  lines  written  on 
the  deep  black-edged  notepaper,  as  though  to  make  certain  that 
his  eyes  had  not  deceived  him. 


CHAPTER  II 

/^NLY  a  small  portion  of  the  once  magnificent  and  still 
^^  stately  suite  of  rooms  on  the  piano  nobile  of  Palazzo  Vital i 
was  inhabited  by  its  present  owners.  The  remainder  of  the 
apartment,  which  formed  the  first  floor  of  the  courtyard,  consisted 
of  a  succession  of  reception  rooms,  halls,  and  ante-chambers,  of 
dismantled  bedrooms  and  bare  corridors,  that  would  have  needed 
an  income  far  larger  than  that  possessed  by  Count  VitaU  to 
maintain  in  a  habitable  condition. 

It  had  been  all  very  well  for  Cardinal  Astorre,  with  his  many 
ecclesiastical  benefices,  his  large  private  fortune,  and  his  Court 
of  gentlemen  and  retainers,  to  house  himself  in  princely  fashion : 
nor  would  the  dimensions  of  his  palace  have  been  any  too  large 
for  the  accommodation  of  a  powerful  cardinal  in  the  days  of  Pope 
Urban  VIII.  For  the  needs  of  a  simple  country  gentleman  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  however,  the  capabilities  of  Palazzo  Vitali 
were  decidedly  superfluous. 

The  consequence  was  that  the  great  rooms  on  the  piano  nobile 
now  presented  a  strangely  dreary  appearance,  and  conveyed  an 
impression  of  departed  grandeur  which  the  shafts  of  sunlight, 
struggling  through  the  apertures  in  the  closed  shutters  and  falling 
upon  tattered  damask  and  gilded  ceilings,  could  not  dispel. 

Nearly  everything,  indeed,  that  was  saleable  in  Palazzo  Vitali 
had  long  ago  been  disposed  of  to  dealers  at  insignificant  prices, 
to  be  resold  to  foreigners  at  no  little  profit.  Nothing  remained 
of  the  works  of  art  which  had  once  adorned  the  reception  rooms 
of  the  Cardinal  and  his  successors.  Only  a  few  portraits  and 
pictures  of  no  marketable  value  looked  down  from  the  walls, 
while  the  furniture  was  reduced  to  various  chairs  and  tables 
distributed  here  and  there  about  the  marble  floors. 

It  was,  therefore,  not  only  for  reasons  of  economy,  but  also  for 
the  sake  of  convenience  that  Count  and  Countess  Vitali  elected 

6 


«1 


TEMPTATION  7 

to  leave  the  greater  part  of  Cardinal  Astorre's  stately  apartment 
unoccupied,  and  to  live  in  a  few  rooms  which  had  been  re- 
furnished at  the  time  of  their  marriage  in,  let  it  be  confessed,  the 
deplorably  bad  taste  dear  to  the  modern  Italians. 

It  was  half-past  eleven,  the  hour  at  which  Ugo  Vitali  and  his 
wife  were  accustomed  to  breakfast.  Taddeo,  a  little,  but  not  much 
more  tidy  in  his  appearance  than  in  the  earlier  hours  of  the 
morning,  opened  the  double  doors  of  the  dining-room,  and 
announced  pompously  that  the  signora  contessa  was  served. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  Countess  Vitali  turned  from  the 
open  window  in  which  she  had  been  standing.  She  was  dressed 
simply  enough,  and  entirely  in  white ;  a  few  red  roses  fastened  in 
the  front  of  her  dress  being  her  only  ornament.  There  could  be 
no  doubt  as  to  her  beauty ;  even  if,  as  was  asserted,  that  beauty 
was  of  peasant  rather  than  patrician  type.  Her  features  were 
regular  and  classical.  Broad,  low  brows,  in  which  the  sleepy- 
looking  brown  eyes  were  set  far  apart ;  a  mouth  that  did  not  err 
on  the  side  of  smallness,  with  lips  full  and  curved  j  outlines  of 
form  now  statuesque,  but  likely  to  become  coarse  in  a  not  far- 
distant  future — all  these  attributes  of  Countess  Vitali  lent  some 
colour  to  the  criticisms  passed  by  her  neighbours  on  her  good 
looks. 

Hers  was  in  truth  the  type  of  face  and  form  not  seldom  to  be 
met  with  among  the  peasantry  around  and  south  of  Rome,  the 
possessors  of  which  come  to  the  city  during  the  winter  and  spring 
months  to  earn  money  as  painters'  or  sculptors'  models,  or  by 
selling  flowers,  and  other  less  innocent  wares,  to  indiscreet 
foreigners.  A  close  observer  of  Countess  Vitali  would  have 
noted,  also,  another  feature  more  common  to  peasant  types  of 
beauty  than  to  those  of  more  refined  origin — an  occasional  and 
fleeting  expression  of  countenance  partly  sensuous,  but  also  partly 
sinister,  which  seemed  at  once  to  fascinate  and  repel. 

What  the  real  origin  of  the  Contessa  Vitali's  father  might  have 
been,  nobody  was  able  to  say  very  definitely.  For  many  years 
Giacomo  Frezzi  had  been  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  successful 
among  the  leading  dealers  in  agricultural  produce  and  stock  in 
the  Agro  Romano. 


8  TEMPTATION 

He  was  supposed  to  have  a  considerable  capital,  and  it  was 
rumoured  that  he  did  not  by  any  means  confine  his  attentions  to 
his  particular  line  of  business  only,  but  that  he  held  in  his  hands 
numerous  narrow  strips  of  paper,  bearing  the  Government  stamp, 
to  which  were  attached  the  signatures  of  some  of  the  largest  and 
most  influential  landowners  in  the  Roman  province.  Some 
people  declared  that  Giacomo  Frezzi's  father  commenced  his 
career,  and  finished  it,  as  a  tender  of  pigs  in  the  woods  around 
Norcia ;  and  that  his  boy,  Giacomo,  being  a  clever  lad,  had  been 
educated  by  the  priests  with  a  view  to  making  him  one  of 
themselves. 

Whatever  his  origin  might  have  been,  the  cavaliere  Frezzi,  as 
he  subsequently  became,  had  made  a  position  for  himself,  and  at 
one  time  had  undoubtedly  been  a  fairly  wealthy  man.  He  had 
married,  too,  the  daughter  of  a  prominent  member  of  Parliament, 
who  died  soon  after  the  birth  of  her  only  child,  the  future 
Countess  Vitali. 

It  was  not  unnaturally  supposed,  as  the  cavaliere  Frezzi  had 
never  taken  a  second  wife,  that  Cristina  Frezzi  would  bring  a 
considerable  fortune  to  any  man  who  married  her.  At  an  early 
age  the  girl  had  been  sent  to  a  convent  in  Perugia  to  be  educated, 
and  there  she  had  remained  until  she  was  seventeen.  At  that 
age  the  Mother  Superior  of  the  convent  had  frankly  informed  the 
cavaliere  Frezzi  that,  in  her  opinion,  his  daughter  did  not  require 
further  instruction,  but  that  she  did  require  a  husband.  After 
Cristina  had  been  a  short  time  at  home,  her  father  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  Mother  Superior  was  presumably  possessed 
of  wider  psychological  discernment  than  her  calling  would  have 
seemed  to  demand. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact,  however,  that  various  suitors  had 
asked  the  cavaliere's  permission  to  pay  their  court  to  her,  the 
girl  had  shown  no  inclination  to  accept  any  one  of  them. 

When  she  married,  she  told  her  father,  she  meant  to  marry 
well.  Those  who  had  as  yet  come  forward  were  of  the  same 
class  as  herself ;  but  perhaps  some  other  aspirant  would  one  day 
present  himself  who  would  be  able  to  offer  her  a  better  position. 

The  aspirant  in  question  did  offer  himself,  in  the  person  of 


TEMPTATION  9 

Count  Vitali,  who,  having  frequent  occasion  to  call  on  the 
cavaliere  Frezzi  for  business  purposes,  met  Cristina  at  her  father's 
house  and  fell  desperately  in  love  with  her. 

The  cavaliere  Frezzi  had  every  reason  to  suppose  that  his 
daughter  would  have  accepted  Ugo  Vitali  even  without  a  title. 
Cristina,  indeed,  displayed  symptoms  entirely  justifying  the 
Mother  Superior's  acumen.  It  was  a  fortunate  thing,  therefore, 
that  while  gratifying  her  ambition,  she  could  gratify  other  passions 
as  well. 

Count  Vitali  was  not,  of  course,  of  the  alta  nobilta :  but  he 
was  of  an  old  family,  the  proprietor  of  a  small,  though  productive 
estate,  and  his  wife  would  be  a  signora  contessa.  From  another 
point  of  view,  moreover,  and  one  which  Cristina  did  not  discuss, 
he  was  young,  strong,  and  decidedly  good-looking ;  and  perhaps 
a  lover  from  the  ranks  of  the  alta  nobilta  would  have  been  none 
of  the  three. 

Very  shortly  before  the  date  fixed  for  the  marriage,  the 
cavaliere  Frezzi  had  experienced  a  serious  reversal  of  fortune. 
The  failure  of  a  great  building  syndicate  in  Rome  had  been 
followed  by  the  bankruptcy  of  a  great  Roman  family  deeply 
concerned  in  it.  Unluckily,  the  cavaliere  Frezzi  was  a  sufferer  by 
both  disasters.  He  had  invested  largely  in  the  shares  of  the 
syndicate,  and  he  had  lent  considerable  sums  of  money  to 
the  Roman  prince,  whose  securities  would  now  be  worth  little 
more  than  the  paper  on  which  they  were  represented. 

There  were  many  quite  ready  to  assume  that,  with  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  greater  part  of  his  betrothed's  fortune,  Ugo  Vitali 
would  break  off  all  subsequent  negotiations.  Had  he  been  a 
Roman,  he  would  very  probably  have  done  so  without  the  smallest 
scruple  ;  for,  as  the  parents  of  more  than  one  fiancee  on  the  eve 
of  becoming  a  Roman  princess  have  had  occasion  to  realise,  the 
Roman  noble  is  by  no  means  above  bargaining  as  to  the 
commercial  and  social  value  of  his  title,  and  endeavouring  to  get 
a  better  price  for  it,  up  to  the  moment  of  signing  his  marriage 
contract. 

Being  genuinely  in  love,  however,  and  not  being  a  Roman 
prince  selling  his  name  in  the  American  marriage  market,  Count 


10  TEMPTATION 

Vitali  had  never  for  an  instant  contemplated  withdrawal  from  his 
position.  His  marriage  with  Cristina  Frezzi  had  accordingly 
taken  place,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  a  very  few  thousand 
francs  were  all  the  cavaliere  found  himself  able  to  produce  as  her 
dowry. 

Count  Vitali  was  certainly  not  a  rich  man.  He  was,  however, 
in  the  fortunate  position  of  having  been  an  only  child,  and,  con- 
sequently, had  inherited  his  property  from  his  father  unen- 
cumbered by  the  claims  of  brothers  and  sisters  upon  it.  Had  his 
wife  brought  him  even  a  moderate  fortune,  this  would  have  been 
acceptable  enough  ;  but  when  the  cavaliere  Frezzi  had  explained 
that  he  would  no  longer  be  able  to  give  his  daughter  the  sum  he 
had  originally  named,  Ugo  had  hastened  to  assure  him  that,  in 
wishing  to  marry  Cristina,  he  had  regarded  her  fortune  as  a 
secondary  consideration. 

Needless  to  say,  both  the  cavaliere  and  Cristina  were  relieved 
at  his  attitude.  With  a  good  dowry  added  to  her  good  looks, 
Cristina  might  possibly  have  made  a  better  marriage  from  a  social 
point  of  view ;  but,  as  things  turned  out,  to  become  the  Contessa 
Vitali  was  as  much  and  more  than  could  reasonably  be  expected. 

For  a  year  or  so  after  her  marriage  Cristina  had  found  no 
reason  to  regret  her  decision.  Her  ambition  for  social  position 
had,  it  is  true,  for  the  time  been  gratified  in  a  limited  manner 
only.  The  world  into  which  her  husband  had  been  able  to 
introduce  her  was  certainly  not  that  world  fifty  miles  away  in 
Rome  which  she  had  so  often  dreamed  of  entering.  Nevertheless 
she  was  contented.  Other  and  softer  passions  than  that  of 
ambition  held  her  enthralled  for  the  moment ;  and  the  novelty  of 
being  la  signora  contessa  was  pleasing,  more  especially  in  a 
provincial  district  in  which  contesse  were  not  numerous. 
Unluckily,  however,  the  sense  of  novelty  consumes  itself;  and 
Countess  Vitali  began  to  find  that  her  new  life  was  likely  to  prove 
far  more  monotonous  than  she  had  anticipated. 

Although  she  had  carefully  kept  her  aspirations  in  the  back- 
ground during  the  first  year  of  her  marriage,  and,  perhaps,  had 
scarcely  realised  that  they  were  of  so  settled  a  character,  she  had 
always  nourished  hopes  of  being  able  to  prevail  on  her  husband 


TEMPTATION  11 

to  give  up  his  provincial  life  for  one  more  in  harmony  with  hef 
desires.  She  had  not  realised  how  absorbed  Ugo  was  in  this 
life;  and  it  had  taken  her  some  little  time  to  discover  that  his 
love  for  her,  great  though  it  seemed  to  be,  could  not  detach  him 
from  surroundings  and  interests  which  had  entered,  as  it  were, 
into  his  very  nature. 

When  she  did  finally  discover  this  fact,  the  knowledge  became 
a  source  of  perpetual  irritation.  She  saw  herself  condemned  to 
pass  the  remainder  of  her  life  in  a  narrow  provincial  circle  of 
which  she  had  already  begun  to  grow  impatient,  and,  in  her 
heart,  contemptuous. 

Perhaps  the  restless  meridional  blood  she  inherited  from  her 
mother,  and  the  quick  Sicilian  wit  that  had  brought  her  grand- 
father to  the  front  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  had  made  her 
regard  so  limited  a  life  as  that  which  she  saw  before  her  with 
a  feeling  little  short  of  dismay.  However  this  might  be, 
the  evident  impossibility  of  altering  Ugo's  mode  of  hfe,  and 
the  conviction  that  her  own  existence  must,  therefore,  be  passed 
in  a  small  provincial  town  with  little  or  no  hope  of  ever  pene- 
trating into  the  great  world  beyond  it,  gradually  created  in 
Cristina  a  sense  of  revolt  against  her  destiny,  which  had  pro- 
duced as  its  first  result  some  perplexity  in  her  husband's  mind, 
and  not  a  little  bitterness  in  her  own. 

On  hearing  Taddeo  announce  breakfast,  Countess  Vitali  was 
about  to  ask  him  if  the  count  had  returned,  when  Ugo  entered 
the  room. 

He  approached  his  wife  with  the  air  of  one  eager  to  impart  a 
piece  of  good  news. 

"  They  told  me  you  did  not  wish  to  be  disturbed,  carissima," 
he  said,  "  or  I  should  have  come  to  your  room  an  hour  ago  or 
more.     I  have  had  a  busy  morning,  and " 

"So  I  perceive,"  Cristina  answered,  looking  at  his  boots 
which  bore  evident  traces  of  a  morning  spent  among  the  dusty 
furrows  of  the  vineyards.  "  You  have  not  even  had  time  to  change 
your  clothes,  and  Taddeo  has  already  announced  breakfast." 

Ugo  laughed  good-humouredly.  "  I  apologise,"  he  replied. 
"  Yes,  I  have  come  in  from  the  fields  in  my  working  clothes,  like 


12  TEMPTATION 

a  contadino  !  but  at  least  I  have  washed.  Listen,  Cristina,  the 
post  came  in  just  as  I  was  going  to  change  my  clothes,  and  it 
brought  me  a  piece  of  news — you  will  never  guess  what  an  extra- 
ordinary piece  of  news  !  " 

'*  Let  us  go  to  breakfast,"  returned  his  wife.  "  As  to  the  news, 
I  daresay  I  can  wait  for  it.  You  have  sold  a  horse,  I  suppose, 
or  you  have  bought  some  new  machine  for  the  farm  " — and  she 
went  before  him  into  the  adjoining  room  where  the  midday  meal 
was  waiting  for  them. 

They  sat  down  at  a  broad,  square  table  in  the  centre  of  the 
dining-room — a  large  and  finely  proportioned  apartment  the 
ceiling  of  which  was  vaulted,  and  covered  with  rapidly  perishing 
frescoes  falsely  attributed  by  local  tradition  to  Zuccari.  Taddeo 
served  the  first  course  of  the  breakfast  and  afterwards  proceeded 
to  fill  their  glasses  from  a  flask  of  red  wine,  the  produce  of  Ugo 
Vitali's  vineyards,  and  reserved  for  home  consumption. 

Ugo  was  in  excellent  spirits,  as  his  wife  could  not  help  notic- 
ing, and,  moreover,  appeared  determined  not  to  allow  anything 
to  ruffle  his  good  humour.  There  are  few  things  more  provoking, 
under  some  circumstances,  than  an  imperturbable  state  of  good 
temper,  especially  if  displayed  by  a  person  with  whom  one  is  on 
such  intimate  terms  as  to  warrant,  in  one's  own  eyes,  the  right  to 
be  annoying  when  so  disposed;  and  Cristina  resented  her 
husband's  frame  of  mind  accordingly.  It  was  quite  true  that  she 
had  slept  badly ;  and  the  result  was  that  she  felt  more  inclined 
than  usual  to  be  unsympathetic  if  Ugo  were  going  to  talk  about 
his  stock,  or  the  condition  of  his  vines. 

She  ate  her  spaghetti  with  a  look  of  bored  indifference  on  her 
face,  but  this  morning  Ugo  refused  to  see  that  there  was  anything 
amiss. 

"  It  is  not  a  case  of  horses,  or  of  machinery,"  he  resumed 
cheerfully  ;  "  all  the  same,  I  expected  to  have  heard  from  Prince 
Odescalchi's  agent  at  Bracciano  as  to  whether  he  means  to  buy 
that  brood  mare.  Do  you  know,  Cristina,  I  must  go  to  Rome — 
at  once " 

Countess  Vitali  lifted  her  eyes  from  her  plate  and  flashed  a 
quick  look  of  surprise  at  him. 


TEMPTATION  13 

"  To  Rome  !  "  she  repeated.  "  What  can  you  have  to  do  in 
Rome  ?  "  The  words  were  simple  enough  ;  and  if  sarcasm  under- 
lay them,  it  was  lost  upon  her  husband. 

Ugo  glanced  at  Taddeo.  "  I  will  tell  you  presently,"  he  said, 
helping  himself  liberally  to  a  frittura  of  brains  and  artichokes 
which  had  followed  the  spaghetti.  "  I  have  business  there — im- 
portant business.  You  will  certainly  never  guess  what  it  is, 
Cristina,  but  when  you  hear,  I  think  you  will  be  pleased,  and  I 
am  sure  you  will  be  surprised.  I  was  never  so  surprised  in  my 
life  as  when  I  opened  that  letter." 

Countess  Vitali  shrugged  her  shoulders  slightly,  but  unmistak- 
ably. "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  must  go  to  Rome  to-day  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  It  will  not  be  possible  for  you  to  leave  while 
Fabrizio  is  here,  and  you  know  he  comes  to-morrow." 

Count  Vitali's  face  fell.  "  Diavolo ! "  he  ejaculated,  "  I 
had  forgotten  all  about  him.  But  it  does  not  matter.  I  will 
telegraph  to  him  not  to  come ;  and  besides,  I  shall  see  him  in 
Rome.  I  must  go  by  the  one  o'clock  train.  Taddeo,"  he 
added,  "  you  can  leave  that  dish  on  the  table  ;  we  will  help  our- 
selves, and  you  can  serve  the  cheese  and  the  fruit  when  I  ring." 

"  It  seems,"  observed  his  wife,  when  the  door  had  closed  on 
the  old  servant,  "  that  you  must  really  have  something  of  import- 
ance to  tell  me,  since  it  cannot  be  discussed  in  Taddeo's 
presence ! " 

Ugo  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  It  is  not  necessary  that  in  less 
than  an  hour's  time  all  Viterbo  should  know  that  we  have  come 
into  a  fortune,"  he  said  with  a  laugh. 

Cristina  laid  down  her  knife  and  fork  and  stared  at  him. 

"  A  fortune  ?  "  she  exclaimed.     "  What  do  you  mean,  Ugo  ?  " 

"  But  precisely  what  I  say,  carissima  !  This  letter  " — and  he 
drew  it  from  his  pocket  as  he  spoke — "  tells  me  that  an  old  aunt 
of  my  father — the  Marchesa  Santoro — died  two  or  three  days  ago, 
and  has  left  me  the  whole  of  her  fortune — something  under  a 
million  of  francs,  the  lawyer  declares.  Imagine,  the  lawyer  did 
not  even  know  where  I  lived !  which  accounts  for  the  delay  in 
communicating  with  me.  The  poor  old  lady  has  been  buried  by 
this  time.     It  is  a  great  deal  of  money,  Cristina." 


14  TEMPTATION 

Countess  Vitali  drew  in  her  breath  with  a  quick  gasp.  "  A  great 
deal  of  money,"  she  repeated  almost  mechanically  ;  and  then  she 
was  silent  for  a  space.  "Forty  thousand  francs  a  year,"  she 
said  at  length.  "  It  will  add  forty  thousand  francs  a  year  to  your 
income ! " 

"Scarcely  so  much  as  that,"  returned  Ugo.  "There  will  be 
the  succession  duty  to  be  paid,  and  that  will  be  heavy.  Besides, 
the  lawyer  says  under  a  million.  In  any  case,  it  will  be  a  very 
useful  addition  to  our  income,  Cristina,  and  I  shall  be  able  to 
carry  out  many  improvements " 

"  But  this  Marchesa  Santoro,"  interrupted  Countess  Vitali 
abruptly,  "you  have  never  mentioned  her,  Ugo — and  yet  she 
must  have  known  you  well  to  make  you  her  heir ! " 

"  I  have  seen  her  once  in  my  life,"  answered  Ugo.  "  Many 
years  ago,  when  I  was  eighteen,  I  think,  my  father  took  me  to 
see  her  in  Rome.  I  remember  he  and  my  mother  used  some- 
times to  talk  about  her  and  say  that  she  was  very  eccentric  and 
would  never  allow  any  of  her  family  to  come  near  her.  My  father 
always  said  she  would  leave  all  her  money  to  the  priests." 

"  She  evidently  had  more  sense  than  your  father  gave  her 
credit  for  having,  Ugo  mio,"  observed  Countess  Vitali,  conciliatory 
for  the  first  time  that  morning. 

"  It  is  extraordinary  that  she  should  have  thought  of  making 
me  her  heir,"  said  her  husband,  "though  I  believe  she  had 
quarrelled  with  all  her  Santoro  relations,  and  that  my  father  was 
the  only  one  of  her  relatives  she  ever  admitted  inside  her  house. 
As  to  the  letter,  you  can  read  it  for  yourself,  Cristina.  I  had  to 
read  it  a  dozen  times  this  morning  before  I  could  bring  myself  to 
believe  that  there  was  no  mistaking  its  meaning." 

Countess  Vitali  took  the  letter,  and  read  it.  "It  is  clear 
enough,"  she  said.  "  Of  course  you  must  go  to  Rome,  Ugo,  and 
have  everything  settled  as  soon  as  possible.  I  suppose  that  the 
old  lady  could  legally  make  you  her  heir — that  there  are  no 
Santoro  relatives  to  contest  the  will?" 

"Her  husband  was  the  last  of  his  family,"  replied  Ugo,  "and 
there  were  no  children.  Besides,  I  should  think  that  the  greater 
part  of  this  money  represented  the  Marchesa's  personal  savings. 


TEMPTATION  15 

She  lived  the  hfe  of  a  recluse,  and  probably  did  not  spend  a 
quarter  of  her  income." 

"  It  is  certainly  a  piece  of  good  fortune,"  said  his  wife  medi- 
tatively. "  We  shall  be  able  to  live  more  in  the  world  now,  and 
do  more  as  other  people  do  in  our  condition." 

A  look  of  annoyance  passed  across  Count  Vitali's  face.  "  We 
live  on  our  own  land,"  he  said  briefly.  "  I  would  not  exchange 
the  life  for  any  other,  even  if  I  could  do  so." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  quickly  with  an  expression  that  was  at 
once  impatient  and  a  little  contemptuous.  She  seemed  about 
to  reply,  but  suddenly  checked  herself,  as  though  on  reflection 
she  thought  it  better  to  leave  unspoken  the  words  that  rose  to 
her  lips.  Apparently,  too.  Count  Vitali  had  no  desire  to 
continue  a  conversation  that  threatened  to  end  in  argument; 
for  he  got  up  from  his  chair  and  rang  the  bell,  which  was 
answered  in  due  course  by  Taddeo's  reappearance  bringing  with 
him  cheese,  and  fruit  in  the  shape  of  a  large  dish  of  wild 
strawberries. 

The  remainder  of  breakfast  was  eaten  more  or  less  in  silence. 
Countess  Vitali  was  apparently  engrossed  by  her  own  thoughts, 
and  replied  to  her  husband's  occasional  observations  in  mono- 
syllables. 

Ugo  was  not  a  little  puzzled  by  his  wife's  reception  of  his 
good  news.  He  felt  that  sudden  sense  of  disappointment  and 
of  mortification  which  we  all  of  us  are  apt  to  feel  when  someone 
we  care  for  declines  to  enter  into  our  happiness  or  our  enthusiasm. 
A  less  even-tempered  man  than  Count  Vitali  would  have  been 
angry,  and  would  have  shown  his  anger.  As  it  was,  however, 
Ugo  forgot  to  be  angry.  His  mind  was  occupied  in  trying  to 
account  for  his  wife's  unsympathetic  mood,  and  the  comparative 
indifference  with  which  she  appeared  to  regard  so  important  a 
change  in  their  common  fortune. 

No  doubt,  he  told  himself,  Cristina  would  have  exhibited 
more  pleasure  in  this  unexpected  addition  to  their  wealth  were 
it  not  for  the  disappointment  over  which  he  believed  her  to  be 
perpetually  brooding.  After  all,  he  could  sympathise  to  a 
certain  extent  with  her  attitude;  for,   if  they  were  to  have  no 


16  TEMPTATION 

children  to  come  after  them,  what  was  the  particular  advantage 
of  this  increase  of  capital  ? 

As  matters  stood,  were  he,  Ugo,  to  die  without  children,  his 
property  and  title  would  pass  to  his  next  of  kin — his  cousin 
Fabrizio  Vitali — who  would  certainly  sell  the  lands,  and  probably 
gamble  away  the  proceeds  in  impossible  speculations  on  the 
Bourse. 

But  it  was  not  in  Count  Vitali's  nature  to  dwell  at  any  length 
on  disagreeable  reflections.  He  had  assured  himself  so  often  of 
late  that  his  wife's  capricious  moods  were  due  to  her  hitherto 
ungratified  desire  to  be  a  mother  and  to  have  in  her  life  the 
interests  attendant  on  motherhood,  that  he  was  quite  convinced 
of  the  truth  of  his  assurance.  Unconsciously,  too,  he  was  glad 
to  be  thus  convinced.  He  realized,  perhaps,  that,  were  he 
obliged  to  find  some  other  explanation  of  the  change  which  in 
the  last  few  months  had  come  over  Cristina,  it  might  not  be 
of  a  nature  to  justify  him  in  believing  that  at  any  moment  the 
cause  of  that  change  might  disappear. 


CHAPTER  III 

npHE  fortune  left  by  the  Marchesa  Santoro  proved  to  be  even 
-'-  larger  than  Ugo  Vitali  had  been  led  by  that  old  lady's 
lawyer  to  expect. 

Capital  representing  a  million  of  francs  had  been  invested  by 
the  marchesa  in  Italian  rentes ;  while,  in  addition  to  this  sum 
of  money,  it  appeared  that  she  was  also  the  owner  of  several 
houses  in  Rome  which  were  let  in  tenements,  at  rentals  amount- 
ing in  all  to  some  forty  thousand  francs  yearly. 

The  marchesa  herself  had  occupied  a  small  apartment  on  the 
third  floor  in  one  of  her  own  houses,  in  which  she  lived  after 
the  fashion  of  a  poverty-stricken  widow.  Her  entire  household 
consisted  of  an  old  man  and  his  wife,  the  latter  acting  in  the 
double  capacity  of  cook  and  personal  attendant ;  while  the 
duties  of  the  former  included  the  performance  of  every  other 
domestic  work  needed  in  the  establishment. 

Count  Vitali  had  certainly  been  correct  in  assuming  that  his 
aged  relative  lived  beneath  her  income.  Comforts  of  every  kind 
had  been  rigorously  banished  from  the  marchesa's  surroundings, 
and  only  those  acquainted  with  the  interior  arrangements  of  a 
certain  type  of  old-fashioned  Italian  establishment  can  realise  to 
what  an  extent  the  art  of  living  uncomfortably  can  be  cultivated. 

Unlike  many  of  her  compatriots,  however,  the  marchesa 
Santoro  had  not  lived  in  penury  within  doors  in  order  to  be 
able  to  drive  up  and  down  the  Corso,  or  round  and  round  the 
Pincio  with  a  carriage  and  pair  of  horses.  Her  economies  had 
been  practised,  not  with  a  view  to  spending  the  money  saved 
at  the  price  of  a  lack  of  comfort  in  her  home  life  almost 
amounting  to  squalor,  on  outward  and  visible  signs  of  affluence, 
but  because  she  was  in  fact  something  very  near  akin  to  a  miser. 

As  Ugo  Vitali  had  heard  from  his  parents,  the  general 
opinion   of   those   who    happened    to   know   of   the   Marchesa 

B  17 


18  TEMPTATION 

Santoro's  existence  was  that,  being  a  devout  woman  who  was 
said  to  make  herself  more  accessible  to  priests  than  she  did  to 
her  own  belongings,  she  would  in  all  probability  leave  her  money 
to  some  religious  order. 

The  marchesa,  however,  was  a  shrewd  woman  of,  though  not 
in  the  world.  She  was  perfectly  aware  that,  had  she  not  the 
reputation  of  having  money  to  leave  behind  her,  neither  priests 
nor  laity  would  have  displayed  any  particular  desire  to  climb 
three  flights  of  steep  stairs  in  order  to  visit  an  old  woman. 
Moreover,  it  was  a  libel  on  the  clergy  to  assert  that  they  did 
visit  her.  As  a  matter  of  fact  one  priest  only  was  in  the  habit 
of  climbing  her  staircase,  and  he  was  a  worthy  man  who 
certainly  had  no  motive  save  that  of  old  friendship  for  doing 
so,  and  cherished  no  designs  upon  her  money,  either  in  his 
own  interests  or  in  those  of  the  Church.  Indeed,  as  Count 
Vitali  had  afterwards  occasion  to  learn,  he  owed  it  to  this 
worthy  ecclesiastic  that  the  Marchesa  Santoro  had,  a  short  time 
before  her  death,  made  him  her  heir. 

Her  husband's  family  by  his  first  wife  had  made  many  and 
futile  efforts  to  secure  to  themselves  the  marchesa's  savings, 
but  had  been  skilfully  kept  at  a  distance  by  the  simple  ex- 
pedients of  receiving  their  proffered  visits  but  rarely,  and  omitting 
to  answer  letters. 

Perhaps  the  marchesa  contrasted  in  her  own  mind  the 
attitude  adopted  towards  her  by  her  nephew,  Count  Vitali, 
Ugo's  father,  who  had  invariably  waited  to  be  summoned  before 
calling  upon  her,  and  who  had  only  brought  his  son  to  see  her 
in  response  to  her  special  request  that  he  would  do  so. 

However  this  might  have  been,  it  was  certain  that  she  had 
no  sooner  realised  the  approach  of  a  new  state  of  existence  into 
which  she  would  be  unable  to  take  her  savings  with  her,  than 
she  had  readily  accepted  the  suggestion  of  her  old  friend  Don 
Pietro,  formerly  parish  priest  of  the  village  near  her  husband's 
property,  as  to  the  justice  and  propriety  of  leaving  her  money  to 
her  great-nephew,  Count  Ugo  Vitali,  who  had  decidedly  not  given 
her  cause  to  suspect  him  of  any  attempt  to  make  up  to  her  for 
the  sake  of  it. 


TEMPTATION  19 

Ugo  Vitali  did  not  remain  in  Rome  a  day  longer  than  was 
absolutely  necessary  after  arranging  with  the  Marchesa  Santoro's 
lawyer  the  business  details  connected  with  his  inheritance. 

There  was  nothing  to  keep  him  in  the  capital,  and  much  that 
required  his  presence  and  attention  at  Viterbo.  The  city,  with 
its  restless  life  and  movement,  had  for  him  even  less  attraction 
than  it  would  have  possessed  for  one  of  his  peasants.  The 
peasant,  at  all  events,  would  probably  have  been  absorbed  in  a 
sense  of  bewildered  curiosity ;  whereas  his  padrone,  on  the  rare 
occasions  of  his  visits  to  Rome,  only  experienced  the  same 
weary  sense  of  dissatisfaction  with  his  surroundings,  and,  con- 
sequently, with  himself,  which  was  the  invariable  effect  created 
upon  him  by  all  large  towns. 

At  Rome,  as  he  had  told  Cristina  he  would  do,  he  had  seen 
his  cousin  Fabrizio,  and  had  explained  to  him  the  reason 
necessitating  his  telegram  begging  him  to  postpone  his  visit  to 
Palazzo  Vitali.  Fabrizio  Vitali  had  received  the  news  of  the 
Marchesa  Santoro's  bequest  with  outward  expressions  of  con- 
gratulations and  delight.  Although  he  and  Ugo  were  relatives, 
they  had  seen  comparatively  little  of  one  another.  Fabrizio 
Vitali,  indeed,  had  nothing  in  common  with  his  cousin,  excepting 
their  family  name.  They  were,  moreover,  cousins  only  in  the 
second  degree.  Nevertheless,  Fabrizio  was  Ugo  Vitali's  nearest 
of  kin  and  would  have  the  right  to  call  himself  Count  Vitali 
should  Ugo  die  without  legitimate  issue.  As  it  was,  he  allowed 
himself  to  be  called  Count  Fabrizio  Vitali  without  demur, 
especially  by  his  creditors ;  and  although  his  visiting-cards  did 
not  bear  the  title,  his  name  on  them  was  surmounted  by  a 
count's  nine-pointed  coronet. 

Like  many  other  young  men  of  his  age  and  condition,  Fabrizio 
Vitali  was  what  would  be  termed  in  England  a  rolling-stone.  He 
had  been  a  university  student,  and  was  by  way  of  earning  his 
livelihood  as  a  lawyer ;  but  his  profession  was  quite  the  last 
thing  which  occupied  his  mind.  Women  and  cards  were  more 
attractive  to  him  than  the  study  of  legal  treatise ;  while  Piazza 
Colonna  and  its  vicinities  were  places  he  frequented  far  more 
assiduously  than  he  did  the  law  courts  at  the  Filippini. 


20  TEMPTATION 

If  Fabrizio  had  been  ill  lately,  his  malady  had  certainly  not 
been  caused  by  over-work ;  and  when  his  doctor  insisted  on  the 
necessity  of  a  change  of  air,  a  change  of  life  was  no  doubt 
what  was  meant  to  be  prescribed.  On  several  occasions  his 
cousin  Ugo  had  invited  him  to  spend  a  few  days  with  him  at 
Viterbo,  but  Fabrizio's  active  dislike  of  the  country  had  hitherto 
caused  him  to  assign  professional  engagements  of  a  purely 
imaginary  nature  as  a  cause  for  declining  these  invitations. 
Like  a  certain  well-known  French  character,  the  only  fault  he 
had  to  find  with  towns  was  that  they  were  surrounded  by  the 
country. 

Unfortunately  it  was  still  too  early  in  the  season  to  resort  to 
any  of  the  watering-places  and  l>agm'  he  usually  frequented  when 
Rome  became  deserted  during  the  summer  months;  and  this 
being  the  case,  Fabrizio  had  bethought  himself  of  proposing  a 
visit  to  his  cousin  at  Viterbo.  He  had  consoled  himself  with 
the  reflection  that,  however  boring  life  at  Palazzo  Vitali  might 
prove  to  be,  he  would  at  all  events  obtain  his  change  of  air 
without  having  to  pay  for  his  board  and  lodging. 

Moreover,  there  might  possibly  be  some  distractions  to  be 
found  even  at  Viterbo.  He  had  yet  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  Ugo's  wife ;  and  he  had  heard  from  various  sources  that  Ugo 
had  married  a  very  good-looking  woman. 

Fabrizio  had  hitherto  never  allowed  himself  to  dwell  upon  the 
fact  that  he  was  Ugo's  heir  at  law,  since  there  was  every  reason 
to  suppose  that  he  might  at  any  moment  cease  to  be  so.  Now, 
however,  he  began  to  reflect  that  nearly  three  years  had  elapsed 
since  Ugo's  marriage,  and  that  as  yet  no  children  had  appeared 
upon  the  scene.  He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would 
certainly  be  as  well  to  cultivate  a  closer  acquaintance  with  him. 
The  knowledge,  too,  that  his  cousin  had  just  inherited  so  con- 
siderable a  fortune  from  the  Marchesa  Santoro  had  certainly 
not  lessened  his  determination  to  endure  the  tedium  of  a  country 
visit  which  might  be  productive  of  future  advantages.  To  be 
sure,  the  difference  in  years  between  him  and  Ugo  was  but 
trifling;  but,  as  he  told  himself,  one  could  never  say  what 
eventualities  might  not  occur.     An  accident — a  fever — and  he 


TEMPTATION  21 

might    find    himself   the    owner    of    the   Vitali  acres    around 
Viterbo. 

It  was  natural,  perhaps,  that  Fabrizio  Vitali's  congratulations 
on  the  piece  of  good  luck  which  had  befallen  his  cousin  would 
not  have  been  entirely  devoid  of  a  feeling  of  envy.  What,  he 
had  wondered  contemptuously,  would  Ugo  be  the  better  for  so 
large  an  addition  to  his  income?  Ugo  himself  had  answered 
the  question,  when  Fabrizio  had  suggested  that  he  would  of 
course  now  bring  his  wife  to  Rome  during  the  winter  and  spring 
months,  instead  of  spending  the  whole  year  at  Viterbo. 

And  Fabrizio,  hearing  his  reply,  had  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  had  thought  regretfully  of  the  different  use  to  which  he 
would  have  devoted  the  old  marchesa's  legacy,  had  she  left  it 
to  him.  After  all,  Ugo,  in  his  ideas,  was  evidently  not  very  far 
removed  from  a  peasant.  It  was  not  surprising,  therefore,  that 
he  should  have  married  the  daughter  of  a  man  who,  if  all  accounts 
were  true,  had  begun  life  by  herding  pigs. 

Doubtless  Ugo's  wife  was  perfectly  happy  in  her  provincial 
surroundings — indeed  she  would  probably  be  like  a  fish  out  of 
water  if  removed  from  them.  It  would  be  amusing  to  see  what 
effect  the  society  of  a  man  of  the  world,  such  as  he  believed 
himself  to  be,  would  have  upon  her,  for  it  was  unlikely  that 
there  were  many  such  at  Viterbo. 

When  his  cousin  proposed  that  he  should  return  with  him  to 
Palazzo  Vitali,  Fabrizio  accepted  readily  enough;  and,  as  soon 
as  Ugo  had  been  able  to  conclude  the  preliminary  business 
matters  connected  with  the  Marchesa  Santoro's  bequest,  the  two 
left  Rome  together. 

A  very  few  hours  passed  in  Ugo  Vitali's  company  were  sufficient 
to  enable  Fabrizio  to  realise  more  fully  than  he  had  hitherto  had 
the  opportunity  of  doing  the  frank  and  open  nature  of  which  his 
cousin  was  possessed.  This  was  something  of  a  revelation  to  one 
who,  like  Fabrizio,  had  spent  by  far  the  greater  part  of  his  life 
within  the  walls  of  Rome.  Like  most  Romans,  he  was  accustomed 
to  look  for  a  motive  in  the  words,  as  in  the  actions  of  his  friends 
and  acquaintances,  and  was,  presumably  from  experience,  more 
prone  to  suspect  evil  than  good  in  that  motive. 


22  TEMPTATION 

During  the  journey  to  Viterbo,  while  the  train  crawled  across 
the  dreary  wastes  of  the  Campagna  Romana — less  dreary  now 
owing  to  the  mantle  of  wild  flowers  donned  for  a  brief  space  by 
the  rolling-plains  stretching  away  to  the  blue  haze  shrouding  the 
Sabine  mountains — Ugo  Vitali  discoursed  to  his  companion 
about  his  domestic  affairs.  On  certain  subjects  the  reticence 
considered  necessary  among  English  people  is  not  observed  by 
the  Latin  races,  and  Ugo  did  not  hesitate  to  take  his  cousin 
into  his  confidence  concerning  his  wife's  mortification  at  not 
being  already  a  mother.  All  that  he  said  about  Cristina  added 
to  Fabrizio's  curiosity.  Had  there  been  a  third  person  present 
in  the  compartment,  and  more  especially  had  that  third  person 
been  an  Anglo-Saxon,  he  might  have  thought  that  Count  Vitali 
was  discussing  matters  relating  rather  to  his  stock  than  to  his 
wife.  Fabrizio,  however,  regarded  these  confidences  as  perfectly 
natural,  and  certainly  not  indelicate.  Nevertheless  he  could 
not  help  the  thought  that,  under  the  circumstances,  he  was  the 
last  person  from  whom  his  cousin  could  reasonably  expect  any 
genuine  sympathy  with  his  grievances.  Ugo's  frankness,  however, 
was  only  another  proof  of  his  absolute  simplicity  of  character,  a 
simplicity  which  merely  served  to  convince  Fabrizio  that  he  was 
in  very  truth  nothing  better  than  a  campagnuolo. 


CHAPTER  IV 

/^OUNTESS  VITALI  received  her  husband's  kinsman  with  all 
^-^  due  cordiality.  As  a  matter  of  fact  she  would  have 
welcomed  the  appearance  of  any  stranger  within  the  gates  of 
Palazzo  Vitali.  If  there  be  occasions  when  the  presence  of  a 
third  person  makes  but  poor  company,  there  are  unquestionably 
periods  in  the  lives  of  most  couples,  married  or  otherwise,  when 
such  a  presence  becomes  both  convenient  and  desirable. 

Ugo  Vitali  was  agreeably  surprised  at  his  wife's  attitude. 
When  he  had  left  her,  he  had  been  not  a  little  mortified  at  her 
indifference  concerning  the  unexpected  piece  of  good  fortune 
that  had  befallen  him ;  while  at  the  same  time  he  had  felt 
vaguely  dissatisfied  with  himself,  inasmuch  as  he  was  apparently 
unable  to  make  her  contented. 

But,  during  his  absence  in  Rome,  Cristina  appeared  to  have 
recovered  much  of  her  former  self.  She  displayed  an  interest, 
and  a  wifely  solicitude  which  Ugo  had  looked  for  in  vain  in  the 
course  of  the  last  year  or  so  of  his  married  life.  Had  these  been 
exhibited  only  in  the  presence  of  the  newly  arrived  guest,  Ugo 
might  have  had  just  reason  to  doubt  their  being  genuine.  This, 
however,  did  not  prove  to  be  the  case;  although  Ugo,  when 
Cristina  had  welcomed  his  return  with  every  sign  of  pleasure  and 
satisfaction,  had  been  almost  inclined  to  suspect  that  her 
attitude  was  assumed  in  order  to  keep  up  an  appearance  of 
domestic  felicity  before  a  stranger  who  was  also  a  relative. 

"  But,  caro  mio,"  exclaimed  Fabrizio  on  the  first  evening  of  his 
arrival,  when  Countess  Vitali  had  finally  retired  for  the  night, 
leaving  Ugo  and  him  together,  "your  wife  is  charming — 
absolutely  charming  !  I  really  do  not  see  of  what  you  have  to 
complain,"  he  added  laughingly. 

Ugo  lifted  his  eyebrows.  "  Complain  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  I  did 
not  know  I  had  complained." 


24  TEMPTATION 

"  Oh,  well,  not  complained,  exactly.  That  would  be  too  strong 
a  term  to  employ.  But  you  certainly  led  me  to  expect — some- 
thing very  different  from  the  reality." 

"Cristina  is  decidedly  in  better  spirits  than  when  I  left  her," — 
Ugo  observed  thoughtfully.  "  I  do  not  know  what  has  happened 
to  make  her  more  like  her  usual  self.  Perhaps  it  is  your  arrival, 
Fabrizio." 

"  Let  us  hope  not — at  least,  let  us  hope  that  the  change  is  not 
due  to  my  arrival  only,"  his  cousin  replied;  "otherwise  there 
would  certainly  be  a  reaction  before  very  long !  But  seriously, 
Ugo,  you  must  have  imagined  the  greater  part  of  all  you  said  to 
me  during  our  journey  this  afternoon.  Cristina — I  may  call  her 
Cristina,  of  course  ? — does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  a  discontented 
woman.  There  is  nothing  in  this  world  more  tiresome  than  a 
discontented  woman.  After  all,  the  discontent  generally  proceeds 
from  a  single  cause." 

"  What  cause  ?  "  asked  Ugo. 

"  The  wrong  man." 

Ugo's  face  flushed.  "  That  is  a  very  cynical  remark,"  he  said, 
with  rather  a  constrained  laugh.  "  If  I  had  known  you  held  so 
poor  an  opinion  of  women,  I  should  scarcely  have  ventured  to  tell 
you  that  I  feared  Cristina  was  discontented.  But  please  re- 
member that  I  gave  you  quite  another  cause  to  account  for  her 
being  so ! " 

Fabrizio  lighted  a  cigarette,  concealing  a  smile  by  the  action. 

"Husbands  generally  do  find  another  cause,"  he  thought;  but 
he  did  not  give  utterance  to  his  thought.  To  say  the  truth, 
Fabrizio  Vitali  was  considerably  astonished  at  finding  his  cousin's 
wife  altogether  different  from  what  he  had  imagined  her  to  be. 
He  had  been  prepared  to  see  a  handsome  though  somewhat 
vulgar  woman — a  woman  who  no  doubt  would  be  little  at  her 
ease  in  the  position,  such  as  it  was,  to  which  her  marriage  had 
raised  her,  and  who  would  probably  attempt  to  conceal  the  fact 
by  assuming  a  disagreeable  manner.  Ugo's  conversation  in  the 
train,  and  little  remarks  he  had  let  fall  one  evening  when  they  had 
dined  together  in  Rome,  had  tended  to  confirm  his  suppositions. 

Fabrizio  Vitali  was,  at  least  so  far  as  one  side  of  his  character 


TEMPTATION  25 

was  concerned,  one  of  those  young  men  whom  modern  Italy  pro- 
duces by  the  thousand,  and  the  keynote  to  whose  nature  is  a 
supreme  egoism.  Of  brains  he  had  plenty;  but  of  the  self- 
restraint  engendered  by  discipline  and  enhanced  by  a  sense  of 
personal  responsibility  he  possessed  little  or  none. 

This  last  deficiency,  however,  could  scarcely  be  said  to  be 
entirely  his  own  fault,  since  the  Italian  universities,  in  one  of 
which  he  had  received  the  only  mental  training  he  had  ever 
experienced,  have  long  ceased  to  retain  any  control  over  their  so- 
called  students.  These  last,  on  the  slightest  opposition  to  their 
wishes,  organize  a  strike,  or  threaten  the  Ministry  of  Public 
Instruction  with  their  displeasure ;  while  the  Government 
trembles  at  their  demonstrations  and,  instead  of  treating  them 
like  unruly  boys,  flatters  their  sense  of  importance  by  calling  out 
the  troops  instead  of  employing  less  heroic  remedies  such  as  the 
fire-hose. 

Apart  from  his  egoism,  Fabrizio  was  by  no  means  bad  natured. 
He  was  one  of  those  people  who,  generally  by  their  relatives,  are 
apt  to  be  described  as  being  nobody's  enemy  but  their  own — than 
which  nothing  more  damning  can  as  a  rule  be  said,  even  by  uncles 
and  aunts  possessing  children.  He  had  all  that  mental  restlessness 
so  often  to  be  found  in  the  Latin  races.  Possessing  just  suflS- 
cient  artistic  perception  to  incapacitate  him  for  turning  his  life  to 
any  practical  account,  he  had  neither  energy  nor  perseverance 
enough  to  enable  him  to  pursue  any  branch  of  art  seriously. 
Such  a  nature,  combined  with  a  total  lack  of  training,  could  hardly 
fail  to  produce  a  character  at  once  sceptical  and  material ;  and 
that  of  Fabrizio  was  both  the  one  and  the  other. 

The  standard  of  that  branch  of  social  deportment  usually 
referred  to  as  morals  being  so  largely  dependent  on  latitude  and 
longitude,  it  would  have  been  hardly  fair  to  assert  that  Fabrizio 
was  more  immoral  than  the  majority  of  other  young  men — or  at 
all  events  of  other  young  Romans. 

Religious  belief  he  had  none;  and  in  this  particular  he  pro- 
bably only  differed  from  most  of  his  fellows  in  that  he  was  honest 
enough  not  to  pretend  to  possess  it.  At  intervals,  and  between 
more  frivolous   occupations,   he  would  read  assiduously;    and 


26  TEMPTATION 

his  favourite  literature,  though  anything  but  spiritual  in  its 
doctrine,  was  not  at  all  of  the  kind  he  might  have  been  expected 
to  select.  Philosophers  and  poets  were  his  preferred  authors  ; 
and  the  more  pessimistic  the  philosophy,  the  more  melancholy 
and  despairing  the  poetry,  the  greater  was  the  satisfaction  he 
derived  from  them.  Nor  were  his  philosophers  and  his  poets 
of  the  drawing-room  and  circulating  library  order.  They  were 
neither  fashionable,  nor  were  their  works  ever  bound  with 
trappings  of  sage  green.  He  would  pore  over  the  pages  of 
Schopenhauer,  of  Nietzche,  of  Spencer  and  other  masters  of 
thought,  in  translation ;  while  Leopardi,  saddest  of  Italian 
singers,  was  probably  responsible  for  much  of  his  inability  to 
grapple  with  the  practical  realities  and  necessities  of  everyday 
life. 

Both  of  Fabrizio  Vitali's  parents  were  deeply  religious,  and 
his  earlier  youth  had  been  spent  in  the  most  orthodox  of  sur- 
roundings. His  father  died  when  Fabrizio  was  only  seventeen ; 
but  his  mother  was  still  alive,  and  was,  indeed,  barely  fifty.  She, 
poor  lady,  had  long  endeavoured  to  combat  her  son's  materialism, 
and  regarded  with  justifiable  horror  the  volumes  she  would  find 
lying  about  his  rooms.  As  long  as  his  age  had  allowed  her  to 
do  so,  she  had  insisted  on  his  conforming  to  the  usages  and 
practices  of  the  Church,  and  his  earlier  education  had,  therefore, 
been  conducted  entirely  under  clerical  control.  The  day  had 
come,  however,  as  she  had  always  foreseen  it  must,  when  active 
interference  became  no  longer  possible ;  but  the  passive  opposi- 
tion which  she  substituted  for  it  was  assuredly,  if  not  more 
efficacious,  the  more  pathetic  of  the  two.  The  Signora  Vitali 
would  surreptitiously  place  pious  books  in  her  son's  room  as  an 
antidote  to  the  subversive  volumes  she  found  there ;  and  some- 
times she  would  hang  a  sacred  picture  on  the  walls,  or  some 
object  of  devotion  specially  blessed  by  the  Holy  Father  himself 
to  the  statuette  of  Our  Lady  of  Lourdes  which  she  had  with  her 
own  hands  put  on  a  bracket  over  his  bed. 

Fabrizio  never  read  the  books ;  but  to  remove  any  one  of 
the  objects  his  mother  had  placed  about  him  would  have  seemed 
to  him  to  be  something  akin  to  sacrilege — and  who  shall  blame 


TEMPTATION  27 

the  Signora  Vitali  for  trusting  that  their  silent  testimony  to 
things  spiritual  might  one  day  find  a  road  to  her  son's  heart  ? 

In  certain  parts  of  Italy,  it  not  unfrequently  happens  that 
those  about  to  commit  an  evil  act  will  turn  a  picture  of  the 
Madonna,  or  of  their  patron  saint,  to  the  wall,  in  order  that  the 
personages  these  represent  should  not  be  offended  by  witnessing 
a  crime — a  practice  by  no  means  confined  to  southern  Italy, 
but  to  which  we  most  of  us  are  apt  to  conform,  albeit  in  a  less 
literal  manner. 

Fabrizio  Vitali  did  not,  it  is  true,  turn  the  face  of  Our  Lady 
of  Lourdes  to  the  wall.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  he  was  too 
deeply  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  positivist  philosophy  to  have 
for  a  moment  thought  such  a  proceeding  necessary.  The  most 
materially  minded,  however,  are  not  always  the  least  super- 
stitious ;  and  Fabrizio  had  always  refrained  from  interfering  with 
the  presence  of  his  mother's  spiritual  antidotes,  not  only  because 
he  knew  she  would  take  it  deeply  to  heart  if  he  did  so,  but 
also  from  a  vague  fear  lest,  should  he  banish  them,  some  bad 
luck  might  overtake  him. 

Signora  Vitali  had  been  more  than  gratified  at  Fabrizio's  an- 
nouncement that  he  was  about  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  head  of 
their  family  at  Palazzo  Vitali  in  Viterbo.  The  keeping  of  an 
ever  vigilant  eye  on  the  good  things  of  the  next  world  has  not 
always  been  found  to  be  incompatible  with  a  very  natural  de- 
termination to  obtain  a  fair  share  of  the  good  things  offered  in 
this  state  of  existence  j  and  Signora  Vitali  never  forgot  that 
Fabrizio  might  at  any  moment  find  himself  in  his  cousin's  place. 
She  had  often  counselled  him  to  improve  his  acquaintance  with 
Ugo  Vitali,  but  hitherto  Fabrizio's  aversion  from  the  country 
had  outweighed  all  her  arguments. 

Fabrizio  had  passed  his  first  evening  at  Palazzo  Vitali  pleasantly 
enough.  Ugo,  who  was  delighted  at  the  change  he  found  in  his 
wife's  demeanour,  was  in  excellent  spirits,  while  Cristina  had 
listened  with  evident  eagerness  to  all  Fabrizio  had  to  tell  them 
concerning  the  social  life  of  Rome,  and  the  scandals  in  that 
portion  of  Roman  society  in  which  he  perhaps  led  his  cousins 
to  believe  he  was  more  at  home  than  was  actually  the  case.     It 


28  TEMPTATION 

is  always  encouraging  to  self-placency,  though  scarcely  as  much 
so  to  strict  veracity,  to  feel  that  one  is  being  agreeable — and 
during  dinner  that  evening  Fabrizio  was  conscious  of  making  a 
distinctly  favourable  impression  on  both  his  host  and  his 
hostess. 

His  topics  of  conversation,  indeed,  were  often  beyond  the 
range  of  Ugo's  experiences  in  life,  and  Count  Vitali's  face  would 
occasionally  wear  a  puzzled  expression  as  though  he  were  wonder- 
ing what  his  guest  was  talking  about.  It  was  not  so,  however, 
with  Countess  Vitali.  Although  she  had  as  little  or  less  ex- 
perience of  the  world  of  society,  any  one  possessing  far  less 
observation  than  did  Fabrizio  would  have  at  once  realised  that, 
in  her  case,  imagination  and  a  lively  interest  supplied  the  place 
of  such  experience. 

The  hours  kept  at  Palazzo  Vitali  were  early,  and  altogether 
different  from  those  Fabrizio  was  accustomed  to  keep  in  Rome. 
Ugo  Vitali,  who  was  always  out  of  doors  by  six  o'clock  at  the 
latest  on  summer  mornings,  and  often  earlier,  had  the  best  of 
reasons  for  not  liking  to  be  late  in  going  to  bed.  At  a  time, 
therefore,  when  Fabrizio  was  usually  wondering  how  he  should 
employ  the  remainder  of  his  evening,  his  host,  after  several 
yawns  that  he  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal,  proceeded  to  light 
a  couple  of  candles,  and  suggested  that  he  should  show  him  the 
way  to  his  bedroom.  To  reach  it  the  two  had  to  traverse  the 
long  suite  of  unused  rooms  on  the  piano  nobile  which  had 
been  the  state  apartments  of  their  common  ancestor  (if  the 
term  can  be  applied  to  a  Roman  ecclesiastic  without  injury  to 
his  reputation).  Cardinal  Vitali. 

The  feeble  light  from  the  candles  only  served  to  make  the 
rooms  appear  larger  and  more  deserted  ;  and  the  footsteps  of  the 
two  men  as  they  passed  across  the  uncarpeted  marble  floors 
re-echoed  dully  under  the  lofty,  vaulted  ceilings.  Notwithstanding 
the  warmth  of  the  summer  night  without,  the  atmosphere  around 
them  felt  chill  and  damp,  and  Fabrizio  shivered  a  little  as  he 
followed  his  cousin's  lead. 

Suddenly  Ugo  paused  and  looked  round.  "  Nothing  short  of  a 
fircj  or  some  similar  disaster,  would  induce  Taddeo  or  any  of  the 


TEMPTATION  29 

people  on  the  place  to  pass  through  these  rooms  alone  at  night," 
he  said,  with  a  smile. 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "Does  the  cardinal  revisit  them  in  the 
spirit  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No — not  the  cardinal.  He,  no  doubt,  has  been  safely  in 
Paradise  years  ago  !  But,  all  the  same,  the  people  will  have  it 
that  these  rooms  are  haunted." 

Sciocchezze  ! "  observed  Fabrizio  contemptuously.  When  one 
is  anxious  to  convince  oneself  that  one  has  sprung  from  nothing, 
and  will  return  to  nothing,  ghosts  and  their  doings  cease  to  be 
interesting  and  become  merely  irritating. 

"  Altro  che  sciocchezze ! "  agreed  Ugo.  He  was  as  convinced 
a  Catholic  as  his  cousin  was  the  reverse ;  but,  like  the  majority  of 
Italians,  he  had  no  belief  in  the  so-called  supernatural,  apart  from 
that  implied  by  his  religious  faith,  and  inculcated  by  the  dogmas 
and  traditions  of  the  Church. 

"  Of  course,"  he  repeated,  "  it  is  all  nonsense.  But  the  people 
insist  that  Donna  Giulia's  spirit  haunts  these  rooms." 

"  Donna  Giulia  ?  " 

"Our  ancestress,  Giulia  Maidalchini,  who  married  the  Count 
Vitali  of  the  day.     Did  you  never  hear  of  her  ?  "  added  Ugo. 

"I  knew  we  had  Maidalchini  blood  in  our  veins,"  replied 
Fabrizzio.  "  It  is  not  much  to  be  proud  of,  I  am  afraid  !  She  was 
a  sister  of  the  famous  Donna  Olimpia,  was  she  not  ?  " 

"  Precisely.  As  you  say,  it  is  not  much  to  be  proud  of.  That 
is  supposed  to  be  a  portrait  of  her,"  and  Ugo  pointed  to  a  half- 
length  picture  of  a  woman  whose  heavy  and  somewhat  coarse 
features  bore  a  decided  resemblance  to  those  in  portraits  of  the 
formidable  sister-in-law  of  Pope  Innocent  X.,  Donna  Olimpia 
Pamphili. 

"She  is  said  to  have  poisoned  her  husband's  elder  brother," 
continued  Ugo,  "who  was  also  reported  to  be  her  lover.  It  is 
not  a  pretty  story." 

"  Surely,  under  the  circumstances,  she  would  have  been  wiser  to 
poison  her  husband  ! "  observed  Fabrizio. 

"The  lover  had  become  tiresome.  Besides,  money  entered 
into  the  matter — and  I  am  afraid  her  husband  was,  if  not  the  in- 


30  TEMPTATION 

stigator  of  the  crime,  at  all  events  the  gainer  by  it.  He  had 
discovered  the  intimacy ;  and,  together  with  the  Maidalchini 
family,  resorted  to  the  plan  of  getting  rid  of  his  brother  and 
suppressing  any  scandal  by  compelling  Donna  Giulia  to  poison 
him.  Apparently,  she  had  already  grown  tired  of  her  lover,  so 
was  the  more  ready  to  agree  to  the  proposal." 

"  The  husband  must  have  been  a  courageous  man  to  continue 
to  live  with  her,"  remarked  Fabrizio. 

Ugo  laughed.  "You  must  remember  that  she  was  a 
Maidalchini.  He  probably  could  not  afford  to  quarrel  with  his 
wife's  family  while  her  sister,  Donna  Olimpia  Pamphili,  reigned  in 
the  Vatican.  We  were  bigger  people  in  those  days  than  we 
are  now,  Fabrizio,  and  had  larger  possessions,  more  worth 
confiscating." 

"  And  so  Donna  Giulia  revisits  the  scene  of  her  crimes,"  said 
Fabrizio. 

Count  Vitali  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "The  people  say  so,"  he 
replied.  "  Taddeo  would  declare  to  you  that  he  has  heard  the 
rustle  of  her  dress  as  she  passed  him.  He  has  never,  at  any  rate 
to  me,  gone  so  far  as  to  say  he  had  actually  seen  her." 

A  haunted  house  is  so  rare  a  thing  in  Italy  as  to  be  almost 
singular ;  possibly  because  the  State  religion,  inherited  from  the 
times  we  contemptuously  dismiss  as  "pagan,"  has  afforded  a 
wider  range  among  the  things  not  of  this  world  than  that  supplied 
in  later  days  by  Protestant  creeds.  The  Reformation  is  probably 
responsible  for  many  ghosts. 

The  supposed  apparition  of  Donna  Giulia,  who  had  been  in 
her  grave  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  and  more,  interested 
neither  of  her  descendants;  while  her  story  was,  after  all,  only 
one  among  many  similar  domestic  occurrences  common  to  life 
in  the  Middle  Ages. 

They  had  reached  the  room  assigned  to  Fabrizio  by  this  time, 
and  Ugo,  after  seeing  that  everything  had  been  prepared  for  his 
guest's  convenience,  wished  him  good  night. 

"You  will  not  see  me  until  breakfast  to-morrow,"  he  said, 
"  and  when  you  want  your  coffee  brought  to  you,  you  have  only 
to  ring.      Taddeo  will  look  after  you,  and  no  doubt  Cristina 


TEMPTATION  31 

will  appear  by  ten  o'clock  or  so  and  show  you  about  the 
place." 

"  And  you  ?  "  asked  P'abrizio. 

"  Oh,  I  have  an  infinity  of  things  to  do  in  the  morning,  and 
must  be  up  before  sunrise.  These  days  in  Rome  have  been  a 
terrible  waste  of  time  ! " 

"I  do  not  call  coming  in  to  a  million  of  francs  a  waste  of 
time,"  said  Fabrizio,  laughing.  "I  should  be  very  glad  if 
somebody  would  show  me  the  way  to  spend  my  time  in  Rome 
as  profitably ! " 

"When  I  have  taken  you  round  the  land,"  observed  Ugo, 
gravely,  "  you  will  see  for  yourself  that  there  is  plenty  to  be 
done  with  the  interest  on  a  million  of  francs." 

After  wishing  his  cousin  good  night  again,  he  left  the  room, 
and  Fabrizio  proceeded  to  arrange  his  things  previous  to  going 
to  bed.  He  had  only  had  time  to  wash,  and  change  his  clothes 
before  dinner,  and  had  it  not  been  for  Ugo's  escort  would 
certainly  not  have  been  able  to  find  his  way  again  to  his  room. 
Now,  however,  he  had  ample  leisure  to  look  about  him,  and  to 
examine  the  arrangements  of  his  sleeping-apartment.  These 
arrangements  were  simple  and  almost  primitive.  Of  comfort 
there  was  very  little ;  but  of  space  there  was  plenty.  By  degrees 
Fabrizio  became  conscious  of  something  about  him  that  he 
could  not  describe  even  to  himself.  It  was  only  after  some 
little  time  had  passed  that  he  realised  what  it  was  that  he  felt 
to  be  all  around  him,  and  knew  it  to  be  nothing  more  tangible 
than  the  deep  silence  of  the  country  at  night ;  a  silence  to  which 
he  was  so  little  accustomed.  He  opened  one  of  the  windows 
and  looked  out  of  it.  The  room  looked  on  to  the  gardens  at 
the  back  of  the  palace,  and  these  lay  bathed  in  the  light  of  a 
May  moon  that  was  almost  at  the  full.  The  nightingales  were 
silent,  as  they  sometimes  are  in  Italy  when  the  moon  is  at  her 
height,  and  only  the  occasional  cry  of  an  owl  broke  the  intense 
stillness.  In  the  black  shade  of  the  cypresses  fire-flies  were 
flitting  to  and  fro,  and  away  beyond  the  gardens  a  shimmering 
haze  of  silvery  light  partially  veiled  the  vineyards  and  cornfields 
stretching  away  to  the  faint  outlines  of  the  Ciminian  hills. 


32  TEMPTATION 

A  scent  of  roses,  of  orange  blossom,  and  half  a  score  of  other 
perfumes  of  an  Italian  summer's  night  floated  into  the  room 
through  the  open  window ;  and  if  there  was  silence,  it  was  that 
of  Nature  sleeping  through  the  short  hours  before  the  summer 
sun  should  rise  again — than  which  there  is  no  sweeter  music  for 
those  who  have  ears  to  hear  it. 

Fabrizio,  however,  noticed  none  of  these  things,  The  stillness 
oppressed,  and  almost  irritated  him.  He  would  have  felt  relieved 
to  hear  the  rattle  of  carriage  wheels,  or  the  cries  of  the  hawkers 
of  the  evening  newspapers  in  the  streets.  He  closed  the  window 
impatiently  and  recommenced  arranging  his  things,  extracting 
from  his  dressing-bag  one  of  his  favourite  books,  with  which  he 
hoped  to  read  himself  to  sleep.  Two  pairs  of  inferior  wax 
candles  scarcely  served  to  light  more  than  a  small  portion  of  the 
long  and  lofty  room,  and  the  corner  of  it  in  which  the  bed  was 
placed  lay  in  deep  shadow.  Fabrizio  took  one  of  the  candles 
and  advanced  towards  the  bed,  intending  to  leave  the  book 
beside  it.  Suddenly  he  started  back  with  an  exclamation  of 
dismay.  Lying  on  the  pillow  was  a  black  crucifix,  the  white 
ivory  Christ  being  concealed  beneath  the  cross.  Notwithstanding 
all  his  materialism,  a  shudder  of  horror  swept  through  him ;  for  a 
cross  to  be  where  it  should  not  is  in  Italy  a  sign  of  ill  omen,  if 
not  of  death.  Recovering  himself  quickly,  Fabrizio  approached 
the  bed,  saying  to  himself  that  he  must  surely  be  mistaken — that 
in  the  dim  light  he  had  imagined  some  article  accidentally  left 
on  the  bed  to  be  a  cross.  But  there  was  no  mistake.  The 
emblem  of  a  faith  he  did  not  scorn,  indeed,  but  treated  with 
indifference  lay  there,  where  he  had  been  about  to  lay  his 
head.  At  that  moment  Fabrizio  did  not  remember  that  the 
crucifix  was  an  emblem  of  the  faith  he  had  abandoned  so  much 
as  the  fact  that  a  cross  was  a  portent  of  the  worst  possible 
kind. 

At  any  rate,  the  thing  should  not  lie  there — nor  would  he  lie 
where  it  had  been.  Stooping  down,  he  lifted  the  crucifix  and, 
as  he  did  so,  his  glance  fell  on  a  mark  on  the  wall  immedi- 
ately above  the  head  of  the  bedstead.  A  small  piece  of  plaster 
had  given  way,  bringing  with  it  the  nail  on  which  the  crucifix 


TEMPTATION  33 

had  hung,  while  the  crucifix  itself  had  fallen  face  downwards  on 
the  pillow  immediately  beneath. 

If  the  explanation  of  its  presence  there  was  simple,  this  did  not, 
in  Fabrizio's  eyes,  remove  the  mal  migurio  of  such  an  accident. 
Sleep,  if  indeed  sleep  should  come  to  him  that  night,  where  the 
evil  omen  had  fallen  he  would  not ;  and,  after  placing  the  crucifix 
in  a  drawer,  so  that  he  should  no  longer  be  able  to  see  it,  he 
proceeded  to  make  himself  as  comfortable  as  was  possible  on  an 
old-fashioned  sofa  at  the  further  end  of  the  room.  It  was  in  vain 
that  he  tried  to  distract  his  thoughts  by  reading.  The  very 
silence  seemed  to  render  them  more  rebellious  to  his  will.  His 
mind  reverted  to  Donna  GiuHa  Vitali.  What  if  it  had  been  her 
evil  spirit  which  had  torn  the  crucifix  from  its  place  and  put  it 
where  he  had  found  it?  Storie !  Sciocchezze  ! — and  Fabrizio 
laughed  at  himself  for  his  weakness  in  permitting  ideas  so  contrary 
to  his  theories  to  disturb  him. 

And  after  some  hours,  sleep,  restless,  and  broken  by  dreams, 
came  to  him. 

He  dreamed,  among  other  things,  that  Donna  Giulia  was 
always  near  him,  now  tempting  him  with  words  and  gestures  of 
love — now  threatening  him  with  revenge  for  some  unknown 
crime  he  himself  had  committed.  Sometimes  he  saw  her  as  she 
was  in  the  portrait  Ugo  had  shown  him — a  woman  no  longer 
young,  and  not  particularly  attractive ;  sometimes,  again,  the 
heavy  features  would  change  into  those  of  his  cousin's  wife, 
Cristina  VitaH,  Throughout  his  dreams  he  was  conscious  of  one 
leading  and  predominant  sensation.  He  seemed  to  be  entangled 
in  the  meshes  of  a  baneful  influence  from  which  he  sought  in 
vain  to  extricate  himself.  Gradually  but  surely  he  felt  himself 
being  surrounded  by  this  evil  thing  which  attracted  and  fascinated 
him  even  while  he  hated  it.  He  knew  that  it  was  drawing  him 
on,  step  by  step,  action  by  action,  to  some  disaster  unforeseen 
and  yet  ever  threatening,  and  that  he  was  powerless  to  offer  any 
effective  resistance  against  it — nay,  that  he  himself  was  aiding  it 
to  encompass  its  own  ends.  Presently,  in  the  midst  of  his 
impotent  struggles  to  free  himself  from  this  unknown  terror, 
somebody  told  him  that  Ugo  was  dead,  and  that  he  was  Count 


34  TEMPTATION 

Vitali  and  the  owner  of  all  Ugo's  property.  Then  Donna 
Giulia  bent  over  him,  and  he  felt  her  arms  round  him  and  heard 
her  laugh.  "  You  killed  him  ! "  she  whispered  in  his  ear,  and 
laughed  again.  And  as  he  looked  at  her  he  saw  that  it  was  not 
Donna  Giulia  but  Cristina  who  was  by  his  side.  And  then,  with 
a  cry  of  horrified  protest  on  his  lips,  he  awoke  to  find  Taddeo 
engaged  in  opening  the  windows  of  his  room  and  letting  in  the 
pure,  sweet  air  of  a  summer  morning. 


CHAPTER  V 

TX  THEN  Fabrizio  left  his  room  that  morning,  he  found 
'  '  Countess  VitaH  awaiting  him.  She  was  sitting  under  the 
shade  of  a  large  magnolia  tree  at  the  end  of  the  terrace  im- 
mediately beneath  the  house,  and  rose  to  meet  him  as  he  emerged 
from  the  courtyard. 

The  prosaic  incidents  attending  his  morning  toilette,  followed 
by  a  light  preparatory  breakfast  of  coffee  and  a  roll,  had  done 
much  to  restore  Fabrizio  to  equanimity.  If  he  could  not 
altogether  shake  off  the  unpleasant  impression  made  upon  him 
by  the  ill-omened  occurrence  of  the  night  before,  he  was  at  all 
events  able  to  laugh  at  himself  for  having  allowed  bad  dreams  to 
create  such  an  effect  upon  his  nerves. 

With  a  brilliant  blue  sky  overhead,  the  sun  shining  on  masses 
of  roses  around  him,  and  a  gentle,  refreshing  breeze  just  stirring 
the  tops  of  the  cypress  trees,  it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  life 
contained  any  such  terrors  as  those  which  had  surrounded  him 
in  his  dreams  a  few  short  hours  ago. 

In  his  waking  moments  Fabrizio  had  almost  decided  that  he 
would  plead  some  excuse  to  his  cousins  and  return  to  Rome  that 
very  day.  Nothing,  he  had  said  to  himself,  should  induce  him 
to  remain  any  longer  in  a  house  where  so  bad  an  omen  had 
befallen  him.  This  feeling  had  soon  passed,  however,  when  his 
mind  had  arrived  at  a  condition  in  which  argument  with  himself 
became  possible.  The  purely  natural  circumstances  under  which 
the  crucifix  had  come  to  be  in  a  position  so  unpleasantly 
suggestive  of  a  death-bed  could  not  be  over-looked,  while  the 
dreams  soon  lost  their  intensity,  and  assumed,  under  calmer 
examination,  the  more  reasonable  proportions  of  a  nightmare. 

It  was  evident,  however,  that  his  recent  experiences  had  left 
some  trace  of  themselves,  even  if  these  were  only  such  as  might 
be  produced  by  a  disturbed  night.     Countess  Vitali,  as  he  wished 

35 


36  TEMPTATION 

her  good  morning,  looked  at  him  enquiringly,  and  after  a 
moment's  pause  expressed  her  fear  that  he  was  not  feeling  so 
well  as  he  had  evidently  felt  the  evening  before. 

Fabrizio  laughed,  and  assured  his  hostess  that  he  felt  quite  as 
well  as  he  had  been  feeling  lately,  and  that  she  must  not  think 
that  he  had  a  relapse  and  was  going  to  be  ill  in  her  house. 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  the  quiet  of  the  country,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  slept  badly  in  consequence.  A  '  beater  of  the  pave- 
ments'  like  myself  misses  the  noises  of  a  town,  and  I  confess 
that  your  country  stillness  got  upon  my  nerves  last  night.  No 
doubt  I  shall  be  more  accustomed  to  it  by  to-morrow  evening." 

Cristina  smiled.  "  I  have  always  been  accustomed  to  it,"  she 
said  drily.  "  Ugo,"  she  added,  "as  you  will  have  gathered,  is 
miserable  in  a  town — so,  except  during  our  honeymoon  when  he 
took  me  to  Naples,  I  have  had  no  opportunity  of  being 
otherwise ! " 

"  And  you  liked  Naples  ?  "  asked  Fabrizio. 

Cristina  clapped  her  hands  together.  "  If  I  liked  Naples  ! " 
she  exclaimed.     "  I  adored  it.     I  saw  life.     Here  I  only  see " 

"  Ugo,"  interposed  Fabrizio. 

"Sicuro!  I  see  Ugo.  That  is  as  it  should  be,  since  I  am 
married  to  him,  and  you  must  not  think  that  I  complain  of  it. 
Certainly  not !  all  the  same,  country  life  is  a  little  monotonous 
when  one  has  nothing  else.  That  is  the  advantage  you  men 
have — you  can  go  where  you  like  and  when  you  like." 

"  But,  my  dear  cousin,  Ugo  is  a  man,  is  he  not  ?  " 

"  Indisputably  ! "  returned  Countess  Vitali,  laughing,  "  but  Ugo 
is  not  as  other  men  are.  He  is  quite  content  to  be  in  his  fields, 
with  his  peasants  and  his  tiresome  horses  and  cattle.  I,  who  was 
brought  up  in  a  convent,  hate  horses  and  cattle — they  frighten 
me." 

"  Men  are  apt  to  be  much  more  dangerous,"  observed  Fabrizio, 
pulling  his  moustache. 

Cristina  Vitali  gave  him  a  quick  glance.  "  Proprio  ?  "  she  said, 
laughing,  "my  experience  of  them,  as  I  have  told  you,  is  limited." 

"  Ugo  should  take  you  to  Rome." 

*' Magari l"  replied  Cristina,  "I  have  often  told  him  so,  but 


TEMPTATION  37 

he  laughs  at  me.  Ugo  is  very  proud,  although  I  daresay  you 
would  not  believe  it.  Probably  he  would  not  believe  it  himself; 
but  it  is  true,  all  the  same.  He  thinks  people  would  despise  us 
in  Rome  because  we  are  provincials." 

"  That  is  absurd,"  returned  Fabrizio.  "  They  would  only  have 
to  see  you — "  and  he  paused  expressively. 

"  Besides,"  continued  Countess  Vitali,  ignoring  the  implied 
compliment,  "  he  says  that  we  have  not  enough  money  to  compete 
with  your  Roman  nobles.  But  why  should  I  bore  you  with  our 
little  differences  of  opinion?  they  are,  after  all,  very  trifling 
matters." 

"  But  you  do  not  bore  me  at  all !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "  Do 
you  know,"  he  added,  "  that  all  the  time  I  was  talking  to  you  at 
dinner  last  evening  I  was  thinking  what  a  pity  it  was  that  you 
should  shut  yourself  up  at  Viterbo  ?  You  should  talk  seriously 
to  Ugo." 

"  And  if  he  will  not  listen  ?  " 

"  A  woman  is  always  listened  to." 

**  Is  she  ?  In  the  world,  perhaps,  but  not  in  Palazzo  Vitali," 
returned  Cristina.  "  Ugo  has  no  ambition,"  she  continued, 
"  but  absolutely  none !  Ah,  if  I  were  a  man,  I  would  not  be 
content  with  watching  my  crops  grow  ! " 

Cristina's  eyes  flashed  and  her  whole  person  became  more 
animated  as  she  spoke.  Fabrizio  watched  her  curiously.  She  was 
certainly  a  beautiful  woman,  he  thought — but  not  a  very  high-bred 
one ;  and  when  she  became  excited,  the  want  of  breeding  showed 
itself.  He  had  seen  enough  of  the  women  in  that  society  he  had 
discoursed  of  the  previous  evening  to  realise  this.  It  did  not 
detract  from  her  beauty,  however;  and,  in  his  eyes,  perhaps  it 
rather  added  to  her  attraction.  It  was  evident  that  Ugo  had  not 
been  mistaken  in  believing  his  wife  to  be  discontented,  though 
Fabrizio  doubted  more  than  ever  whether  the  reason  he  had 
assigned  for  her  discontent  was  the  correct  one.  He  had 
promised  to  himself  some  amusement  in  seeking  out  the  weak 
places  in  his  cousins'  menage,  and  apparently  he  was  in  a  fair 
way  to  obtain  that  amusement.  He  had  not  expected,  certainly, 
that  Countess  Vitali  would  be  so  expansive  at  the  very  commence- 


38  TEMPTATION 

ment  of  his  visit ;  but,  as  she  appeared  to  be  not  indisposed  to 
make  him  the  confidant  of  her  grievances,  he  was  more  than 
ready  to  encourage  her  to  do  so.  It  is  always  gratifying  to  a  man 
to  be  the  recipient  of  a  woman's  confidences ;  and  when  that 
woman  happens  to  be  good-looking  it  becomes  a  positive  pleasure 
to  hsten  to  them, 

"  What  would  you  do — if  you  were  a  man  ?  "  Fabrizio  asked, 
after  a  pause. 

Cristina  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Since  I  am  not  a  man,  it 
is  useless  to  answer  that  question,"  she  said.  "  Let  us  talk  of 
something  else,"  she  added  abruptly,  "  about  yourself,  for  instance. 
Ugo  tells  me  that  you  are  a  terrible  heretic — a  Protestant,  or 
something  of  the  sort.  It  must  be  very  interesting  to  have  a 
religion  of  one's  own,  instead  of  believing  what  the  priests  tell 
one." 

"But  I  have  no  religion,"  Fabrizio  replied.  "I  am  a 
positivist." 

"What  is  a  positivist ?"  inquired  Countess  Vitali.  "Is  he  a 
person  who  flies  in  a  rage  if  he  sees  a  crucifix  hanging  above 
his  bed,  and  pulls  it  down  ?  " 

Fabrizio  started.  "What  do  you  mean?"  he  exclaimed,  look- 
ing at  her  in  surprise. 

"  But  you  must  know  very  well  what  I  mean.  You  have 
caused  an  enormous  scandal  in  the  household.  Taddeo  rushed 
downstairs  after  bringing  you  your  coffee  this  morning  declaring 
that  you  must  be  the  devil,  or  a  freemason  at  the  very  least ! 
He  told  my  maid  that  you  had  wrenched  the  Christ  from  the  wall 
above  your  bed  and  thrown  him  away — out  of  the  window. 
Did  you  ?  " 

In  spite  of  his  surprise  and  some  annoyance  that  the  incident 
of  last  night  should  have  reached  Cristina's  ears,  Fabrizio  burst 
out  laughing. 

"  1  found  the  crucifix  on  my  bed,"  he  said.  "  It  had  evidently 
fallen.     The  nail,  I  suppose,  had  given  way." 

It  was  Cristina  who  started  this  time.  "  Madonna  mia  ! "  she 
ejaculated,  "  what  a  horrible  thing ! — luckily,  as  you  do  not 
believe  in   anything,    you   are   not   superstitious ;    otherwise  it 


TEMPTATION  39 

would  be  a  brutto  augurio.  But  did  you  throw  it  out  of  the 
window  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not !  I  confess  that,  for  the  moment,  it  gave  me  a 
shock  to  find  it  on  my  bed.  It  looked  horribly  suggestive,  you 
know.  But  I  did  not  throw  it  out  of  the  window.  I  put  it  in  a 
drawer,  as — as  I  did  not  want  it  always  before  my  eyes  to  remind 
me  of  bad  omens." 

Countess  Vitali  looked  grave.  "  It  was  a  dreadful  thing  to 
happen,"  she  said.  "  I  am  glad  it  did  not  happen  to  me.  I 
should  be  terrified  for  months  to  come.  But  for  you,  of  course, 
it  does  not  matter — you  are  above  such  weaknesses." 

Fabrizio  gave  a  constrained  laugh.  "  We  can  never  quite  get  rid 
of  our  childish  superstitions,"  he  remarked.  "It  will  take  many 
generations  to  free  the  human  race  from  the  yoke  of  hereditary 
traditions  which  only  the  enlightened  know  to  be  absurd." 

Cristina  did  not  reply  for  a  moment.  Probably  she  would  not 
have  understood  Fabrizio's  observation  even  if  she  had  heard  it — 
and  this  seemed  to  be  doubtful,  for  her  face  wore  a  pre- 
occupied expression. 

"  Do  not  tell  Ugo,"  she  said,  at  length.  "  He  is  not  like  you. 
He  is  what  I  suppose  you  would  call  very  superstitious,  that  is, 
he  is  a  strong  clerical,  and  believes  all  the  priests  wish  us  to 
believe." 

*'  And  you  ? "  asked  Fabrizio,  "  do  you  also  believe  all  the 
priests  wish  you  to  believe  ?  " 

Cristina  laughed.  "  Che  !  "  she  replied.  "  I  was  brought  up 
in  a  convent,  as  I  have  told  you — so  I  know  how  much  they 
believe  themselves ! " 

Fabrizio  laughed  also.  "  It  seems,  then,  that  we  agree  on 
certain  points,"  he  observed.  "  But  I  do  not  see  why  Ugo  should 
not  be  told  about  the  crucifix,"  he  continued.  "  I  had  intended 
to  say  nothing  about  it ;  but  as  you  had  heard  of  its  disappear- 
ance from  the  servants,  there  was  no  reason  for  me  not  to  talk  of 
it.     Ugo  will  be  sure  to  hear  of  it  in  the  same  way." 

"  Not  now  that  you  are  exonerated  from  having  committed  a 
sacrilege,"  replied  Countess  Vitali.  "  I  shall  tell  Taddeo  what 
really  happened,   and  the  excitement   among  the   servants  will 


40  TEMPTATION 

subside.  As  to  Ugo,  he  would  be  very  uneasy  if  he  knew  that 
such  a  bad  omen  had  happened  in  the  house.  Moreover,  you 
have  Donna  GiuUa's  room " 

"  Donna  GiuUa's  room  ! "  repeated  Fabrizio,  and  his  face  fell 
suddenly  in  spite  of  his  effort  to  appear  indifferent. 

"  You  know  the  story,"  proceeded  Cristina.  "  But  of  course  you 
do,  as  you  are  one  of  the  family.  Yes — the  room  you  have  is 
said  to  have  been  hers.  You  shall  see  her  picture.  She  does 
not  appear  to  have  been  a  very  attractive  woman — though  her 
brother-in-law  is  said  to  have  thought  otherwise." 

"  I  have  seen  the  picture,"  said  Fabrizio.  "Ugo  showed  it  to 
me  last  night.  He  told  me  her  story.  As  he  says,  it  is  not  a 
pretty  story." 

*'  No,"  remarked  Cristina  thoughtfully ;  "  but  very  probably  we 
do  not  know  her  version  of  it.  Perhaps,"  she  continued,  "you 
would  like  to  be  moved  into  another  room  ?  You  were  put  into 
Donna  Giulia's  because  it  is  a  little  more  comfortable  than  the 
other  bedrooms  in  this  old  barrack.  If  you  are  afraid  of  seeing 
your  ancestress,  however,  it  is  very  easy  to  change  your  quarters." 

Fabrizio  glanced  at  her  quickly.  He  fancied  that  he  detected 
the  faintest  possible  tone  of  mockery  in  her  voice.  Like  most 
amateur  explorers  in  the  regions  of  philosophic  doubt,  he  was 
extremely  afraid  of  being  considered  to  be  half-hearted  in  his 
allegiance  to  his  new  masters.  How  excellent  and  desirable  a 
thing  would  it  be  if  it  were  possible  for  the  works  of  great  minds 
to  be  written  with  a  view  to  the  fact  that  minds  infinitely  smaller 
read  and  interpret  them  ! 

If  a  little  learning  be  a  dangerous  thing,  dabbling  in  the  higher 
branches  of  philosophical  research  is  apt  to  be  positively  perilous 
to  any  but  the  strongest  natures ;  and  Fabrizio  Vitali  was  only 
one  among  the  multitude  of  dabblers  existing  not  in  Italy  alone, 
but  in  the  world  generally.  He  was  under  the  firm  impression 
that  he  had  grasped  the  fruits  of  his  philosophers ;  but  he  was 
unable  to  realise,  or  even  to  suspect  that  he  was  incompetent,  by 
reason  of  an  undisciplined  mind,  to  pluck  any  except  those  within 
the  reach  of  ordinary  mortals — these  last  being  seldom  the  ripest. 

"  Please  do  not  think  of  moving  me,"  he  said  hastily,  in  reply 


TEMPTATION  41 

to  Cristina's  suggestion.  "  I  hope  you  do  not  think  that  I  am  so 
weak  as  to  be  alarmed  at  such  a  trifle  as  a  bit  of  wood  and  ivory 
falling  from  a  wall  on  to  my  bed  !  I  admit  that  I  would  rather 
the  bit  of  wood  had  not  happened  to  be  in  the  shape  of  a  cross ; 
but  that  is  merely  foolish  prejudice,  and  I  am  already  heartily 
ashamed  of  myself  for  having  paid  any  attention  to  the  incident. 
As  to  Donna  Giulia,  I  should  be  delighted  to  make  her  acquaint- 
ance, if  she  chooses  to  visit  me !  Perhaps  I  should  then  learn 
her  version  of  the  story." 

"  As  you  please,"  said  Countess  Vitali  indifferently.  "  I  thought 
you  were  frightened." 

"And  I  believe  you  think  so  still!"  exclaimed  Fabrizio 
angrily. 

Cristina  Vitali  laughed — a  low,  and  rather  malicious  laugh. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  think  so  still.  Indeed,  I  am  sure 
of  it ! " 

"Perbacco  !  but  if  I  tell  you  that  I  am  not?  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  believe  in  omens — or  in  spirits?  As  to  spirits,  I  can 
understand  those  who  flatter  themselves  that  they  possess  an 
immortal  soul  believing  in  them " 

"But  you  do  not  flatter  yourself  that  you  possess  any  such 
thing,  then  ? "  interrupted  Countess  Vitali,  looking  at  him 
curiously. 

"  Of  course  not !  This  being  the  case,  how  can  you  suppose 
that  I  have  any  expectation  of  making  the  spiritual  acquaintance 
of  Donna  GiuHa  Vitali  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Cristina  meditatively,  "  that  interests 
me.  I  am  aware,  of  course,  that  there  are  many  people  in  the 
world  who  think  as  you  do,  but  I  have  never  before  had  the 
opportunity  of  talking  to  one  of  them.  According  to  your  theory, 
then,  it  does  not  matter  what  we  do  in  this  life.  It  must  be  all 
the  same  thing  in  the  end." 

"  What  we  do  matters  to  society — I  mean  society  in  the  large 
sense  of  the  term — not  to  ourselves  individually.  It  cannot  affect 
our  future — as  we  have  all  been  brought  up  to  believe  it  will  do. 
Since  we  have  had  no  past,  why  should  we  assume  that  we  have 
a  future  ? " 


42  TEMPTATION 

"  Then,"  said  Cristina,  "  we  are  all  very  foolish  not  to  enjoy 
ourselves  as  much  as  we  can  while  we  have  a  chance ! " 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "  Undoubtedly,"  he  said.  "  That  is  true 
philosophy." 

"  Philosophy  is  a  much  simpler  thing  than  I  thought  it  was," 
observed  Cristina. 

"  Scusi — but  it  is  not  simple  at  all !  The  world  is  still  far  too 
prejudiced,  and  far  too  much  under  the  influence  of  ancient 
myths  to  allow  of  its  being  so.  It  is  a  perpetual  battle  against 
ignorance  and  the  reactionary  forces  of  Christianity." 

"  Per  caritk ! "  said  Cristina,  "  do  not  discuss  these  things 
before  Ugo,  he  would  be  horribly  scandalised !  You  must 
reserve  them  for  me." 

"  But  I  have  no  wish  to  scandalise  you ! "  Fabrizio  returned 
quickly. 

"Oh,  as  to  me,  I  rather  share  your  views — only  I  am  not 
clever  enough  to  be  able  to  express  them  as  you  do.  Besides,  I 
have  to  keep  my  opinions  to  myself.  That  is  one  of  the  dis- 
advantages of  being  a  woman." 

"  You  must  admit  that  it  is  not  every  woman  who  succeeds  in 
keeping  her  opinion  to  herself  ! "  remarked  Fabrizio  drily. 

"  Ah ! "  exclaimed  Cristina,  laughing,  "  it  is  delightful  to  talk 
to  you  !  Ugo  would  never  have  thought  of  saying  such  a  thing, 
he  is  too  matter  of  fact.  But  you  are  wrong.  Women  are  much 
more  secret  than  men.  I  believe  that  you  have  never  known  a 
woman  well.  Perhaps  it  has  not  entered  into  your  philosophy  to 
do  so  ! " 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,"  replied  Fabrizio  complacently,  "  I  have  had 
as  much  experience  of  women  as  most  men,  I  imagine.  Do  not, 
however,  think  me  impertinent  if  I  confess  that  you  are  a  surprise 
to  me ! " 

"A  surprise?" 

"  But  certainly — a  surprise.  I  had  imagined  somebody  very 
different.  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  in  looks,  of  course ;  I  was  pre- 
pared for  what  I  find  in  that  respect,  and  I  am  certainly  not 
disappointed ! " 

An  Italian  of  a  certain  category  can  rarely  talk  to  a  woman 


TEMPTATION  43 

without  considering  it  necessary  to  pay  compliments  to  her ;  and 
Fabrizio  was  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

"I  wonder  what  kind  of  individual  you  expected  to  find," 
observed  Countess  Vitali. 

"  I  hardly  know.  It  is  a  little  difficult  to  tell  you.  I  think  I 
had  expected  to  find  a  person  who  did  not  possess  your  evident 
interest  in  Hfe  and  its  problems,  for  one  thing." 

Cristina  laughed — a  not  very  pleasant  laugh — and  from  under 
her  broad  level  brows  flashed  the  peasant  look,  half-defiant  and 
half-suspicious.  "  It  is  possible  to  take  interest  in  things  with 
which  one  has  very  little  chance  of  becoming  acquainted,  except 
from  the  outside !  "  she  said.  "  But  from  whom  did  you  receive 
your  impressions  of  me  ? — from  Ugo,  I  suppose  !  " 

"  He  certainly  led  me  to  expect  a  different  sort  of  character 
from  that  which  I  am  sure  you  possess,"  said  Fabrizio,  with  a 
smile.  "  But,"  he  added  cautiously,  "  no  doubt  Ugo  was  quite 
unconscious  of  doing  so.  You  say  yourself  that  he  has  very 
orthodox  views  on  certain  subjects,  and  that  he  looks  at  life  from 
a  peculiar  standpoint  of  his  own.  Probably,  therefore,  he  is 
honestly  unable  to  realise  your  standpoint.  It  may  never  even 
occur  to  him  that  you  have  so  different  a  one.  It  is  only 
sympathy  which  enables  two  people  to  know  by  intuition  each 
other's  mental  attitude  towards  such  subjects  as  those  we  have 
touched  upon." 

"  Altro  !  "  assented  Countess  Vitali.  "  Do  you  suppose  I 
have  not  long  ago  realised  that  ?  " 

"If  you  have  not,"  said  Fabrizio  in  a  low  voice,  "you  must 
surely  realise  it  now  !  What  has  it  been  but  sympathy  which 
has  enabled  us — strangers  until  last  night — to  discuss  the  things 
we  have  been  discussing  ?  " 

Cristina  slowly  dissected  a  crimson  rose  she  had  pulled  from  a 
bunch  she  was  wearing,  and  watched  its  petals  falling  on  the 
grey  stones  of  the  terrace.  Fabrizio  watched  her.  He  was  not 
sure  whether  she  was  offended  or  flattered  by  his  words,  for  her 
face  told  him  nothing. 

At  length  she  looked  up,  and,  as  she  was  about  to  answer, 
suddenly  checked  herself.     Fabrizio,  who  was  sitting  with  his 


44  TEMPTATION 

back  to  the  fagade  of  the  palace,  turned  round  to  follow  the 
direction  of  her  gaze.  The  expression  that  came  into  her  eyes, 
and  the  almost  sullen  look  that  settled  on  her  face  had  attracted 
his  attention. 

"  There  is  Ugo,"  she  said  quickly ;  and  Fabrizio  saw  his 
cousin's  form  approaching  them  from  the  further  end  of  the 
terrace. 

Count  Vitali  greeted  his  guest  with  all  the  cheerful  good- 
humour  of  a  man  who  feels  he  has  done  a  satisfactory  morning's 
work  before  other  people  have  been  out  of  their  beds.  He  was 
clad  in  riding-breeches  and  gaiters,  and  his  boots  were  white 
with  the  dust  from  the  sun-baked  land ;  for  he  had  been  in  the 
saddle  since  five  o'clock  that  morning,  visiting  every  portion  of 
his  property. 

"  I  hope  you  slept  well,"  he  said  to  Fabrizio.  "  You  have  not 
the  buona  ciera,  as  the  peasants  say ;  but  you  will  very  soon  get 
some  colour  into  your  face  now  you  have  left  Rome  behind  you. 
Cristina,"  he  continued,  "  do  you  recollect  me  telling  you  that  I 
had  sent  one  of  my  best  mares  to  Bracciano  ?  Imagine  if  I  am 
annoyed !  The  Odescalchi  people  declare  that  she  is  wrong  in 
the  wind.  It  is  they  who  are  wrong  in  the  head  !  The  mare  is 
as  sound  as  I  am  ! " 

"  Which,  I  should  think,  is  saying  a  great  deal !  "  observed 
Fabrizio. 

Ugo  Vitali  laughed.  "  I  am  as  sound  as  most  men,  I  am  glad 
to  say,"  he  said  carelessly.  "  You  must  admit  that  it  is  very 
annoying,"  he  added,  turning  to  his  wife  again.  "They  have 
kept  the  mare  for  a  fortnight,  and  of  course  I  thought  I  had  sold 
her." 

"  Oh,  very  annoying,  certainly,"  agreed  Countess  Vitali. 

"Yes,  but  that  is  not  all,"  proceeded  Ugo.  "When  one  is 
away,  things  are  sure  to  go  wrong.  I  have  wasted  nearly  a  week 
in  Rome — and  a  week  at  this  time  of  year  means  a  great  deal." 

"Why  not  have  an  agent  to  look  after  things  for  you?" 
suggested  Fabrizio. 

"  Yes,  why  not,  Ugo  ? "  said  Cristina.  "  I  have  often 
wondered  why  you  do  not  have  an  agent." 


TEMPTATION  45 

"  Why  should  I  pay  a  stranger  to  do  what  I  can  do  as  well  or 
better  myself?  "  returned  Ugo.  "  Besides,"  he  continued,  "  the 
contadini  would  not  work  for  any  agent  as  well  as  they  work  for 
me.  They  trust  me,  and  I  trust  them.  We  neither  of  us  want 
any  third  person  to  come  between  us." 

"  Is  it  not  an  ideal  state  of  things  ?  "  said  Cristina  to  Fabrizio. 
"  You  see  that  the  peasants  and  my  husband  thoroughly  under- 
stand each  other  ;  so  of  course  there  is  nothing  more  to  be 
desired." 

"Cristina  is  quite  right,"  Ugo  remarked.  "  When  padrone  and 
contadino  trust  one  another  and  work  together  for  the  good  of 
the  land,  I  do  not  see  what  more  can  be  desired  on  any 
property." 

Countess  Vitali  did  not  answer.  She  looked  at  Fabrizio,  and 
their  eyes  met. 

The  shadow  from  the  sun-dial  on  the  facade  of  Palazzo  VitaH 
pointed  to  eleven,  and  Cristina  rose  from  her  seat  under  the 
magnolia  tree. 

"  We  breakfast  at  half-past  eleven,"  she  said  to  Fabrizio  ;  and 
leaving  him  and  her  husband  to  follow  her  at  their  leisure,  she 
walked  away  and  disappeared  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  VI 

T  TGO  VITALI  had  been  quite  right  when  he  declared  that 
^  Fabrizio  would  soon  recover  his  ailments  now  that  he  had 
left  Rome  behind  him. 

Although,  notwithstanding  the  legends  written  home  to  their 
friends  by  over-tired  and  over-fed  English  tourists,  modern  Rome 
is  one  of  the  healthiest  of  European  capitals,  the  heavy  Roman 
air  does  not  assist  a  speedy  recovery  from  illness,  should 
illness  chance  to  be  contracted  there.  Fabrizio's  malady,  how- 
ever, was  merely  one  of  that  very  general  species  requiring 
change  of  habit  rather  than  change  of  air  or  scene.  He  had 
been  at  Palazzo  Vitali  nearly  a  fortnight  now,  and  he  was 
unquestionably  the  better,  at  all  events  physically,  in 
consequence. 

The  days  had  passed  quickly  enough — more  quickly,  indeed, 
than  Fabrizio  would  have  thought  it  possible  that  days  could  pass 
in  the  country — and,  somewhat  to  his  own  surprise,  he  found 
himself  agreeing  with  his  cousin  Ugo  that  there  was  no  particular 
reason  why  he  should  be  in  a  hurry  to  return  to  Rome.  Countess 
Vitali,  too,  seconded  her  husband's  proposal  that  Fabrizio  should 
stay  at  least  another  fortnight  with  them  ;  and  so  it  was  eventually 
settled  that  no  definite  date  should  be  fixed  for  his  departure. 

Fabrizio  did  not  attempt  to  persuade  himself  that  Hfe  at 
Palazzo  Vitali  was  exciting ;  but  he  was  becoming  gradually 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  he  found  it  interesting — and  this  quite 
apart  from  any  scope  it  afforded  for  incidental  amusements.  Of 
these  last,  it  might  be  said  briefly  that  there  was  none. 

Life  in  an  Italian  country-house  is,  as  a  rule,  of  a  rigid 
simplicity.  There  are,  of  course,  exceptions  to  the  rule,  but 
they  are  to  be  found  only  in  individual  establishments  far  more 
pretentious  than  was  that  of  Casa  Vitali.  The  Italian  villeg- 
giahira  is  not  lacking  in  ease,  but  the  comforts  and  pleasant 
46 


TEMPTATION  47 

refinements  common  to  country-houses  north  of  the  Alps  are 
regarded  as  superfluous,  and  are  usually  conspicuous  by  their 
absence.  During  an  Italian  summer,  however,  in-door  comforts 
can  very  well  be  dispensed  with ;  and  Fabrizio,  being  un- 
accustomed to  exotic  luxuries  in  his  mother's  apartment  in  Rome, 
did  not  notice  the  want  of  them. 

Strangely  enough,  Countess  Vitali  herself  was  the  one  person 
in  the  house  who  resented  what  she  described  as  an  old-fashioned 
and  bourgeois  way  of  living.  Considering  the  circumstances  of 
her  birth  and  bringing  up,  her  attitude  towards  the  subject  was, 
no  doubt,  both  unreasonable  and  illogical.  Probably  Ugo  Vitali 
regarded  it  as  such,  though  he  was  far  too  much  of  a  gentleman 
even  to  hint  to  her  that  he  did  so.  It  was  evident,  nevertheless, 
that  the  contemptuous  remarks  she  would  often  make  concerning 
their  mode  of  life  irritated  Count  Vitali  beyond  measure. 

If  the  mode  of  life  at  Palazzo  Vitali  was  old-fashioned,  as  his 
wife  declared,  it  was  for  this  very  reason  that  Ugo  Vitali  clung  all 
the  more  closely  to  it.  His  father  before  him  had  lived  in  the 
same  manner,  and  Ugo  could  see  no  reason  why  he  should 
depart  from  the  example  of  his  predecessors  so  far  as  his  domestic 
arrangements  were  concerned.  In  all  things  regarding  the  im- 
proving of  his  lands  he  was  liberal  minded  enough,  and  was  the 
first  to  adopt  any  modern  agricultural  appliance  that  he  could 
afford,  or  that  he  believed  to  be  suitable  to  his  requirements. 
But,  apart  from  his  farming,  Ugo  was  conservative  au  bouts 
des  ongles.  It  would  scarcely  have  been  natural  had  he  not  been 
so,  since  he  was  one  of  a  type  of  country  gentleman  which  still 
exists  as  it  has  existed  for  centuries  in  the  provincial  districts  of 
Italy. 

Holding  himself  entirely  aloof  from  the  cosmopolitan  society  of 
the  capital,  and  of  the  other  large  towns,  he  had  never  been 
brought  into  contact  with  foreign  ideas,  or  with  those  foreign 
customs  to  which  the  modern  Italian  of  the  upper  class  has 
taken  so  kindly.  Of  pride  he  had  plenty ;  but  it  was  not  the 
false  pride  attributed  to  him  by  superficial  observers  of  his 
character.  It  was  owing  to  a  sense  of  his  own  inferiority  if  he 
stood  aside  from  the  life  of  Rome  with  all  its  political,  social, 


48  TEMPTATION 

and  religious  struggles  and  intrigues.  So  far  as  blood  was  con- 
cerned, he  knew  himself  to  be  better  born  and  better  descended 
than  nine  out  of  ten  Roman  princes  who  could  trace  their 
nobility  to  no  worthier  source  than  that  of  some  priestly 
adventurer  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries.  The 
Vitali  had  been  of  those  powerful  Roman  barons  who  had  once 
harassed  popes  very  much  at  their  own  pleasure ;  consequently, 
such  comparatively  modern  names  as  those  borne  by  representa- 
tives of  papal  nepotism  possessed,  in  Ugo  Vitali's  eyes,  no  claim 
to  superiority  over  his  own. 

In  his  religious  opinions,  Ugo  was,  as  Cristina  had  warned 
Fabrizio,  strongly  Catholic,  at  any  rate  in  the  sense  of  accepting 
unquestioningly  all  the  propositions  the  Church  imposed  upon 
his  faith.  In  the  complicated  problems  regarding  the  relations 
between  Church  and  State  he  took  little  or  no  interest ;  but,  like 
the  great  majority  of  Italians,  he  regarded  the  Papacy  as  a  national 
institution  which,  apart  from  religious  prejudices,  had  an  ancient 
and  historical  claim  to  be  respected  and  upheld  as  such. 

Placed  by  his  host  and  hostess  on  the  footing  of  a  relative 
nearer  in  kinship  than  was  actually  the  case,  Fabrizio  Vitali  had 
more  opportunity  than  would  have  fallen  to  the  lot  of  an  ordinary 
guest  of  gaining  an  insight  into  the  more  personal  details  of  their 
domestic  life.  It  was  true  that  Ugo  had  never  again  referred  to 
the  subject  of  his  wife's  disappointment  that  no  child  had  as  yet 
been  born  to  them,  and  a  less  shrewd  observer  than  Fabrizio 
might  well  have  failed  to  notice  anything  unusual  in  Countess 
Vitali's  demeanour  towards  her  husband.  Cristina  herself,  how- 
ever, had  given  him  a  clue  which  Fabrizio  was  not  slow  in 
determining  to  follow  up.  He  had  never  stopped  to  ask  himself 
why  she  should  have  given  it  to  him  so  spontaneously,  being 
quite  content  with  the  thought  that  he  had  so  quickly  succeeded 
in  establishing  a  bond  of  sympathy  between  himself  and  a  woman 
who  attracted  him  as  much  by  a  personality  which  puzzled  him  as 
by  her  physical  beauty. 

Fabrizio  very  soon  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Ugo  was 
completely  mistaken  in  thinking  that  his  wife  was  fretting  at  being 
childless.     At  first  he  had  suspected  that  his  cousin  was  either 


TEMPTATION  49 

wilfully  deceiving  himself,  or  that  he  was  attempting  to  conceal 
from  any  third  person  the  true  state  of  affairs.  A  very  few  days 
at  Palazzo  Vitali  had  sufficed  to  convince  Fabrizio  that  he  was 
wrong  in  both  suspicions.  It  was  evident  that  Ugo  genuinely 
believed  in  the  explanation  he  had  found  for  the  gradual  change 
in  his  wife's  demeanour;  and  moreover,  that  he  was  absolutely 
incapable  of  understanding  the  possibility  of  there  being  any 
other. 

And  yet,  to  a  third  person,  the  situation  was  clear  enough. 
Cristina  was  bored  —  hopelessly  bored — not  only  with  the  Hfe 
she  found  herself  obliged  to  lead  at  Palazzo  Vitali,  but  also  with 
her  husband ;  while  the  arrival  or  non-arrival  of  a  baby  on  the 
scene  would,  Fabrizio  was  equally  persuaded,  not  alter  the 
position  of  things  in  the  slightest  degree. 

It  seemed  incredible  that  Ugo  should  not  realise  this  position, 
or  rather,  it  would  have  seemed  incredible  in  the  case  of  any 
other  husband.  But  Fabrizio  had  speedily  recognised  the 
simplicity  of  his  cousin's  nature,  as  well  as  his  entire  want  of 
knowledge  of  the  world;  and  Ugo's  obtuseness,  therefore, 
became  more  understandable. 

And  so  it  had  come  to  pass  that  Fabrizio  had  to  some  extent 
found  the  amusement  he  had  anticipated  in  making  himself 
acquainted  with  his  cousins'  menage,  though  not  after  the 
manner  of  his  anticipation.  By  degrees  he  found  himself  in  the 
position,  as  it  were,  of  an  interested  spectator  looking  on 
at  a  comedy — a  comedy  he  did  not  enjoy  the  less  for  being,  as 
he  fully  believed,  in  the  confidence  of  the  principal  player. 
Circumstances,  it  must  be  admitted,  afforded  Fabrizio  every 
opportunity  of  availing  himself  of  Countess  Vitali's  apparent 
readiness  to  confide  in  him.  Except  at  meals  and  in  the 
evenings  Ugo  was  seldom  at  home ;  for  it  was  the  season  when 
his  vineyards,  and,  indeed,  every  department  of  his  property  re- 
quired his  constant  attention  and  supervision. 

Occasionally  neighbours  would  call  on  Countess  Vitali — for 
there  are  country  neighbours  in  Italy  as  there  are  in  England, 
and  perhaps  their  habits  do  not  differ  very  much.  When  they 
paid  a  visit,  it  was  usually  a  long  one.     But,  unlike  their  English 

D 


50  TEMPTATION 

counterparts,  they  did  not,  at  the  conclusion  of  their  visits, 
make  elaborate  excuses  for  leaving — a  British  custom  which 
strikes  the  foreign  observer  as  being  merely  an  unnecessary 
manifestation  of  the  national  hypocrisy,  displaying  at  the  same 
time  a  deplorable  lack  of  the  sense  of  humour.  Sometimes 
Cristina  would  invite  a  few  people  to  play  lawn-tennis  in  the 
gardens,  and  at  rare  intervals  one  or  two  more  intimate  friends 
would  be  asked  to  dinner,  which  last  was  a  purely  informal 
meal  for  which  nobody  ever  thought  of  doing  more  than  chang- 
ing their  morning  garments — the  ladies  wearing  high  gowns  and 
hats,  and  the  men  donning  black  coats. 

These  festivities,  however,  were  few  and  far  between ;  and  as 
a  rule  Count  and  Countess  Vitali  were  alone  with  their  guest. 
Whatever  Ugo  Vitali's  faults  may  have  been,  he  was  certainly 
not  a  jealous  husband.  He  had  seen  with  satisfaction  that  his 
wife  appeared  to  like  Fabrizio's  society,  and  he  was  not  in 
the  least  disposed  to  resent  the  fact  that  she  did  so.  It  was 
something  of  a  revelation  to  him  that  Cristina  had  any  interest 
in  literature,  and  that  she  should  be  able  to  talk  to  Fabrizio  on 
subjects  of  which  he,  Ugo,  knew  nothing,  and  perhaps  cared 
about  even  less.  He  could  not  be  inspired  to  know  that  their 
conversations  were  strictly  limited  in  his  presence  to  such  general 
topics  as  should  not  offend  his  more  orthodox  opinions,  nor 
that  Fabrizio  reserved  his  amateur  philosophy  for  moments  when 
Cristina  and  he  were  alone  together.  The  fact  that  his  wife 
was  undoubtedly  less  difficile  than  she  had  lately  taken  to  be 
was  in  itself  sufficiently  satisfactory ;  and  Ugo  argued  to  himself 
that  it  was  very  natural  that  she  should  be  interested  in  the 
society  of  a  man  like  Fabrizio,  who  no  doubt  was  a  very  clever 
fellow,  though  he  did  not  seem  to  put  his  talents  to  any  very 
practical  account.  Moreover,  Fabrizio  was  his  nearest  of  kin, 
and  a  Vitali;  and  honest  as  the  day  himself  it  never  entered 
into  Ugo's  head  to  suspect  double-dealing  on  the  part  of  others, 
at  all  events  in  things  lying  outside  the  domain  of  business,  in 
which  last  matter  experience  had  taught  him  the  advisability  of 
not  judging  others  by  his  own  standard. 

It  was  natural  that  the  little  social  world  of  Viterbo  should  be 


TEMPTATION  51 

exercised  in  its  mind  concerning  Fabrizio's  appearance  in  the  Vitali 
menage.  Countess  Vitali  had  never  succeeded  in  winning  any  great 
measure  of  popularity  among  her  husband's  neighbours,  many  of 
whom  could  never  forget  the  fact  that  she  had  not  been  his  equal 
in  birth.  The  taint  of  the  Norcian  pigs  still  clung  to  her,  at  least 
so  far  as  the  nostrils  of  some  of  the  Viterbese  aristocracy  were 
concerned.  Cristina,  it  was  true,  had  not  taken  any  particular 
trouble  to  win  her  way  into  the  intimacy  of  this  body.  She 
had  very  soon  realised  that  she  was  only  tolerated  as  an  equal 
by  some  of  Ugo's  neighbours  because  she  happened  to  be  his 
wife;  and  she  had  resented  their  attitude  accordingly,  though 
she  had  not  cared  to  show  her  resentment  too  openly.  The 
men,  of  course,  were  quite  ready  to  forget  her  antecedents  and 
only  to  remember  her  good  looks ;  it  was  their  women-kind 
who  were  apt  to  resuscitate  the  pigs  on  every  possible  opportunity, 
and  more  especially  when  some  unsuspecting  stranger  happened 
to  praise  Countess  Vitali's  beauty. 

There  was  one  among  her  neighbours,  however,  who  had  from 
the  first  stood  by  Cristina,  and  whose  voice  carried  weight  by 
reason  of  the  position  and  reputation  enjoyed  by  its  owner  not 
only  in  the  society  of  Viterbo,  but  also  in  far  more  important 
communities.  The  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  was  one  of  those 
people  whose  lives  are  chiefly  occupied  in  doing  good  to  their 
fellow-creatures ;  but,  unlike  the  majority  of  the  women  of  her 
class,  she  did  not  advertise  her  actions.  Her  name  was  seldom 
or  never  to  be  found  on  lists  of  "  patronesses "  of  the  innumer- 
able entertainments  professedly  offered  for  charitable  purposes 
during  the  Roman  season,  probably  because  she  was  too  well 
aware  of  the  extent  to  which  a  mysterious  leakage  in  the 
proceeds  of  such  entertainments  is  apt  to  occur  before  they  are 
finally  consigned  to  their  legitimate  destination.  The  duchessa's 
philanthropy  was  practical  rather  than  sentimental  in  its  action. 
She  devoted  her  energies  to  fighting  the  causes  of  disease  and 
poverty,  rather  than  to  making  spasmodic  attempts  to  remedy 
their  eff'ects.  Still  a  young  woman,  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice 
was  possessed  of  most  of  the  advantages  this  world  can  off'er. 
Born  of  a  great  house  herself,  she  had  married  well  and  happily, 


52  TEMPTATION 

though  five  years  after  her  marriage  she  had  been  left  a  widow. 
The  Duca  di  San  FeUce  had  been  drowned  while  saiUng  off 
Livorno  in  a  small  sailing-boat  he  delighted  in  handling  himself. 
A  violent  Libeccio  had  come  on  while  the  vessel  was  half-way  to 
the  Corsican  coast ;  the  boat  capsized ;  and  of  the  four  men  on 
board  her,  only  one  was  saved  by  a  passing  steamer  to  bring  the 
news  of  the  disaster  to  the  mainland. 

The  duchess,  left  with  two  little  children,  had  never  married 
again,  though  rumour  declared  that  she  might  have  done  so  many 
times  had  she  not  preferred  to  remain  a  widow.  If  she  had 
not  the  striking  beauty  of  features  and  colouring  possessed  by 
Cristina  Vitali,  she  was  none  the  less  remarkably  attractive ;  and 
there  was  about  her  that  unmistakable  stamp  of  birth  and  breed- 
ing which,  with  all  her  beauty,  were  lacking  to  Countess  Vitali. 
Vittoria  di  San  Felice,  nata  Vittoria  della  Valle  of  the  princes  of 
Montughi,  was  a  tall,  stately  woman  some  five  and  thirty  years 
of  age.  Her  quiet,  somewhat  cold  manner,  was  apt  to  be 
attributed  to  indifference  or  to  pride  by  those  who  met  her  for 
the  first  time  ;  and  this,  coupled  with  a  fairness  of  colouring  more 
like  that  of  an  Englishwoman  than  an  Italian,  had  sometimes 
gained  for  her  a  reputation  of  stiffness  which  her  more  intimate 
acquaintances  knew  to  be  very  foreign  to  her  real  nature. 
Although  she  was  known  to  and  appreciated  by  all  the  leading 
spirits,  political,  literary,  scientific,  of  her  country,  the  Duchessa. 
di  San  Felice  was  by  no  means  a  blue-stocking.  A  deep  interest 
in  the  social  and  economic  conditions  of  her  country  did  not 
prevent  her  from  finding  distractions  in  other  and  less  serious 
subjects.  A  bold  rider,  and  an  even  bolder  Alpine  climber,  she 
had  occasionally  somewhat  scandalised  the  sticklers  for  the  old 
order  of  things  who  considered  dancing  to  be  the  only  legitimate 
form  of  exercise  for  a  woman  to  take,  and  who  regarded  her 
athletic  performances  as  being  no  doubt  natural  in  an  English- 
woman, but  hardly  fitting  in  an  Italian  princess. 

The  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  had,  since  her  husband's  death, 
been  accustomed  to  spend  a  great  part  of  the  year  in  her  villa 
near  Viterbo,  and  appeared  but  little  in  society  in  Rome.  It  was 
no  secret,  however,  that  she  might,  had  she  so  chosen,  have  been 


TEMPTATION  53 

one  of  the  Court  ladies;  nor  that  the  intellectual  and  gracious 
Queen  Margherita,  ever  ready  to  recognise  talents  and  goodness  of 
heart  in  others  with  a  quick  discrimination,  had  given  her  many 
proofs  of  favour  and  sympathy. 

It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  should  be 
looked  upon  by  her  neighbours  in  the  district  around  Viterbo  as 
what  in  fact  she  was — a  grande  dame  who  was  at  the  same  time  a 
clever  woman  in  touch  with  the  clever  people  of  the  country. 
The  combination  being  everywhere  a  rare  one,  it  probably  served 
to  increase  the  esteem  in  which  the  duchessa  was  held  by  her 
friends  and  acquaintances  who,  to  her  credit  be  it  said,  were  to 
be  found  in  all  classes,  rich  and  poor,  noble  and  peasant. 

Not  even  the  friendly  attitude  adopted  by  the  Duchessa  di  San 
Felice  towards  Ugo  Vitali's  wife,  however,  had  entirely  reconciled 
a  certain  section  of  Viterbese  society  to  the  daughter  of  an 
individual  who  had  once  herded  pigs.  The  duchessa,  indeed, 
had  laughed  at  the  legend  when  told  it,  and  had  observed  that 
the  herding  of  pigs  was  a  more  useful  occupation  than  many 
others.  She  was  perfectly  well  aware  that  Count  Vitali's  marriage 
had  caused  heart-burnings  in  more  quarters  than  one ;  but 
though  she  might  not  altogether  approve  of  his  choice,  she  had 
no  intention  of  making  things  difficult  for  his  newly  married  wife 
by  saying  so.  Although  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  find  two 
people  of  more  opposite  tastes  in  many  ways  than  had  the 
Duchessa  di  San  Felice  and  Ugo  Vitali,  they  had  been  friends  for 
some  years.  Ugo,  who  shunned  women's  society,  had  always 
felt  completely  at  his  ease  at  the  Villa  Falconara,  as  the  duchessa's 
villa  was  called.  Not  the  least  of  Vittoria  di  San  Felice's  charms, 
and  certainly  one  of  the  proofs  of  her  cleverness  was  the  gift  of 
being  able  to  interest  herself  in  the  things  which  interested 
others — always  supposing  that  those  things  were  not  in  the 
nature  of  gossip,  for  which  she  had  a  profound  and  openly 
expressed  contempt.  She  was  quick  to  discover  the  special 
hobby  of  any  one  with  whom  she  talked,  and  equally  clever  at 
extracting  anything  of  interest  that  person  might  have  to  say 
about  it.  It  was  no  doubt  due  to  this  talent  on  the  duchessa's 
part  if  Ugo  Vitali  was  always  ready  to  call  upon  her  at  the  Villa 


54  TEMPTATION 

Falconara,  whereas  nothing  would  have  induced  him  to  visit 
others  of  his  neighbours  who  might  have  been  supposed  to  be 
much  more  of  his  own  world  than  was  the  intellectual  mistress  of 
that  picturesque  but  solitary  abode. 

Notwithstanding  the  wide  difference  in  the  majority  of  their 
tastes,  there  was  at  least  one  that  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  and 
Ugo  possessed  in  common.  The  love  for  the  country  which  was 
so  strong  in  the  latter  was  equally  shared  by  the  former. 
Vittoria  was  certainly  not  a  farmer;  but  most  enthusiasms 
interested  her,  and  she  would  encourage  Ugo  to  tell  her  of  all  his 
schemes  for  the  amelioration  of  his  property.  Her  quick 
sympathy  had  enabled  her  long  ago  to  read  his  nature,  and  the 
generosity  and  simplicity  of  that  nature  had  met  with  a  ready 
response  from  her  own.  When  Ugo  Vitali  had  written  to  her 
announcing  his  marriage,  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  had  been  in  the 
Val  d'Aosta,  engaged  in  one  of  her  mountaineering  excursions. 
Ugo  had  made  no  secret  of  the  difference  in  position  between 
himself  and  his  bride ;  and  Vittoria,  who  was  liberal  enough  in 
such  matters,  had  not  been  indignant  when  he  explained  that 
Cristina's  father  was  a  wealthy  mercante  di  campagna.  She 
possessed  at  least  one  acquaintance  in  the  smart  world  of  Rome 
who  had  taken  a  husband  or  a  wife  from  the  same  ceto,  and  in 
each  case  the  gilding  of  the  plebeian  pill  had  been  sufficiently 
thick  satisfactorily  to  disguise  any  unpleasant  taste — at  least 
temporarily.  The  duchessa,  however,  knew  Ugo  Vitali  much  too 
well  to  believe  for  a  moment  that  he  was  marrying  for  the  sake  of 
his  wife's  dot.  Under  the  circumstances,  she  felt  convinced  that 
he  had  married  a  woman  who,  if  not  exactly  of  his  own  class, 
would  from  the  very  fact  of  her  origin  be  more  likely  to  make 
him  happy  than  might  be  the  case  had  he  chosen  his  wife 
elsewhere. 

When  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  decided  to  take  up  a  position,  it 
was  no  easy  matter  to  move  her  from  it.  By  the  time  she 
returned  to  Villa  Falconara,  Ugo  Vitali's  marriage  was  an 
accomplished  fact,  and  he  and  his  wife  were  already  settled  in 
Palazzo  Vitali.  Perhaps  Vittoria  was  not  without  a  lurking 
regret  that  Ugo  had  married  at  all.     Marriage  has  proved  to  be 


TEMPTATION  55 

the  interruption  of  many  pleasant  episodes  in  life.  If  it  adds 
much  to  the  life  of  the  woman,  it  also  destroys  much  in  that  of 
the  man. 

On  making  Countess  Vitali's  acquaintance,  Vittoria  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  she  must  reserve  her  judgment  as  to  whether 
her  friend  had  chosen  ill  or  wisely.  She  was  accustomed  to 
make  up  her  mind  almost  instantly  as  to  the  personality  of  those 
with  whom  she  was  brought  into  contact,  and  her  instinct  had 
usually  proved  itself  to  be  correct.  With  Cristina  Vitah, 
however,  she  was  conscious  that  her  instinct  was  at  fault.  She 
had  expected,  and  hoped,  to  find  that  here,  also,  was  simplicity ; 
and  she  had  been  prepared  to  ignore  possible  vulgarity,  or  at 
least  to  accept  it  as  a  lesser  evil ;  since  vulgarity,  so  long  as  it 
were  of  manners  and  not  of  nature,  was  curable. 

But  Cristina  was  not  vulgar.  She  was  not,  to  be  sure,  in  all 
things  as  Vittoria  herself,  nor  was  it  likely  or  natural  that  she 
should  be  so.  The  little,  indescribable  nuances  marking  the 
difference  of  caste  which  even  Fabrizio  had  been  able  to  detect, 
and  which  were  certainly  still  more  apparent  to  a  woman  of 
Vittoria  di  San  Felice's  breeding,  showed  themselves  in  many 
ways,  trifling,  indeed,  but  unmistakable. 

It  was  not  this,  however,  which  caused  the  duchessa  to  suspend 
her  judgment  as  to  whether  Ugo  had  or  had  not  found  a  wife 
who  would  make  him  happy.  Countess  Vitali's  personahty 
puzzled  her;  and,  somewhat  inconsequently,  perhaps,  she 
wondered  how  it  was  that  so  honest  and  straightforward  a  man 
as  Count  Vitali  had  not  been  puzzled  by  it  also. 

Vittoria's  nature  was  much  too  generous  to  allow  her  always 
to  be  guided  by  her  first  impressions.  It  was  evident,  moreover, 
that  Ugo  was  deeply  in  love  with  his  wife ;  though  even  in  those 
early  days  of  their  married  life  it  was  by  no  means  so  evident  to 
Vittoria  that  Cristina  was  in  love  with  him.  This  last  considera- 
tion, oddly  enough,  produced  in  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  a 
feeling  of  impatience,  and  almost  of  annoyance,  for  which  she 
was  unable  to  account  and  tried  not  to  discuss  with  herself. 

Having  made  up  her  mind  to  give  her  social  support  to  Ugo 
Vitali's  wife,  she  had  given  it  loyally ;  and  she  had  gone  out  of 


56  TEMPTATION 

her  way  to  show  to  all  whom  it  might  concern  that  she  was 
perfectly  indifferent  as  to  whether  the  pig  story  were  true  or  the 
reverse. 

Being  fully  conscious  of  her  own  power  in  all  social  matters 
affecting  her  Viterbese  neighbours,  the  duchessa  had  been 
surprised  to  find  that,  notwithstanding  her  attitude  towards  her, 
Countess  Vitali  was  yet  looked  at  somewhat  doubtfully.  But 
nobody  ventured  to  criticise  Cristina  to  Vittoria  di  San  Felice, 
all  the  more  so  because  Vittoria  had  far  too  much  tact  and 
knowledge  of  the  world  to  allow  it  to  be  supposed  that  she  had 
noticed  any  disinclination  on  the  part  of  her  neighbours  to  receive 
Countess  Vitali  into  their  real  intimacy. 

Their  reserve  towards  Cristina  Vitali,  however,  by  no  means 
prevented  her  acquaintances  from  accepting  any  hospitaUty 
Palazzo  Vitali  might  offer.  No  people  in  Europe  know  better 
how  to  draw  a  subtle  but  distinct  line  between  friendly  intercourse 
and  intimacy  than  do  the  Italians,  and  none  can  draw  this  line 
with  greater  politeness.  The  society  of  Viterbo  being  limited, 
it  was  speedily  known  throughout  its  ranks  that  Fabrizio  was 
paying  an  apparently  indefinite  visit  to  his  cousins  at  Palazzo 
Vitali.  Countess  Vitali,  moreover,  drove  about  with  her  guest 
while  her  husband  was  occupied  with  his  own  affairs — and  this, 
perhaps,  had  caused  a  certain  amount  of  gossip  among  people 
who  had  rarely  anything  new  to  talk  of.  The  consequence  had 
been  that,  as  Cristina  had  on  one  occasion  drily  observed — 
though  she  did  not  make  the  remark  before  Ugo — she  became 
quite  a  popular  person  with  her  neighbours,  and  Taddeo  had  to 
answer  the  great,  clanging  bell  at  the  portone  of  the  courtyard 
more  frequently  in  the  course  of  the  last  fortnight  than  he  had 
done  at  any  time  since  Count  Vitali  had  first  brought  his  wife 
home. 


CHAPTER  VII 

'"TPHE  signora  duchessa  di  San  Felice  wishes  to  know  if  the 

•^      signora  contessa  receives." 

Cristina  Vitali  was  sitting  alone  on  the  terrace  with  a  book 
Fabrizio  had  lent  her  lying  on  the  ground  beside  her,  where  it 
had  fallen  from  her  lap.  It  was  nearly  five  o'clock ;  and  though 
the  afternoon  sun  still  beat  fiercely  on  the  drooping  flowers  in  the 
gardens  below,  the  terrace  itself,  shaded  by  the  house,  was  a  cool 
retreat  enough. 

Cristina  had  not  made  much  way  in  her  book.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  she  was  extremely  bored  by  it.  To  sit  and  listen,  or  pretend 
to  listen,  while  Fabrizio  expounded  the  theories  of  Schopenhauer, 
according  to  his  own  conception  of  their  import,  was  one  thing ; 
but  to  wrestle  with  that  philosopher  in  print  on  a  hot  afternoon 
was  a  very  different  matter.  Fabrizio  had  carefully  marked  cer- 
tain passages  in  the  volume  for  his  cousin's  special  attention ; 
but  Cristina  could  make  neither  head  nor  tail  of  their  meaning, 
and  was,  in  reality,  profoundly  indifferent  as  to  whether  they 
had  any  meaning  or  not.  She  harboured  a  very  shrewd  sus- 
picion, born,  it  is  fair  to  add,  rather  from  the  interpretation 
by  the  disciple  of  the  master's  teaching  than  from  that  teach- 
ing itself,  that  Schopenhauer  and  his  fellow -philosophers 
were  merely  so  many  imposing  pegs  on  which  to  hang 
excuses  for  doing  as  one  liked  in  life  regardless  of  ulterior 
consequences. 

Taddeo's  appearance  on  the  terrace  with  the  intelligence  that 
the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  was  waiting  to  know  if  she  were  at 
home  aroused  Cristina  from  a  train  of  thought  with  which 
Schopenhauer  was  only  indirectly  connected.  It  would  have 
been  difficult  to  guess  from  Countess  Vitali's  expression  of  counten- 
ance whether  the  interruption  was  agreeable  or  the  reverse. 
The  smile  on  her  face,  as  she  bade  Taddeo  conduct  the  signora 

57 


58  TEMPTATION 

duchessa  at  once  to  the  terrace  and  afterwards  to  bring  tea  and 
granite^  was  entirely  enigmatic. 

As  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  emerged  from  the  courtyard  on  to 
the  terrace  Cristina  rose  from  the  low  wicker-chair  in  which  she 
was  seated  and  went  to  meet  her. 

"  I  have  come  to  congratulate  you  both,"  said  Vittoria,  as  they 
sat  down.  "  I  was  so  very  glad  to  hear  of  Vitali's  good  fortune. 
Do  accept  my  warmest  congratulations,  contessa ! " 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice's  voice  was  low  and  singularly  musical — 
in  which  she  was  more  blessed  than  very  many  of  her  country- 
women, whose  voices  are  seldom  one  of  their  attractions. 
Though,  according  to  the  Italian  custom  by  which  ladies  address 
men  whom  they  know  well  by  their  surnames  only,  she  spoke  of 
Ugo  so  unceremoniously,  Vittoria  had  never  yet  called  his  wife  by 
her  Christian  name;  she  might,  indeed,  with  perfect  propriety 
have  called  Count  Vitali  Ugo,  since  she  had  known  him  when 
he  was  barely  twenty-one,  in  his  parents'  lifetime. 

"It  was  a  pleasant  surprise,  certainly,  for  Ugo,"  Cristina 
replied.  "  Of  course,"  she  added,  "  Ugo  was  the  Marchesa 
Santoro's  nearest  relative;  but  all  the  same  it  was,  as  I  say,  a 
very  pleasant  surprise  to  him." 

Vittoria  smiled.     "  And  to  you  also  ! "  she  returned. 

"The  Marchesa  Santoro  did  not  leave  her  money  to  me, 
duchessa,"  observed  Cristina  coldly.  "  No  doubt,"  she  continued, 
"  Ugo  is  very  pleased.  He  says  that  he  will  now  be  able  really  to 
improve  his  property.     But  that,  after  all,  does  not  affect  me ! " 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  glanced  at  her  curiously.  "Cara 
contessa,"  she  replied,  and  there  was  a  distinct  note  of  surprise 
in  her  voice,  "  but  of  course  it  must  affect  you  !  Ah,  I  forgot ! " 
and  she  paused  suddenly. 

At  this  moment  Taddeo  reappeared  and  aided  by  a  young 
footman — an  altogether  modern  addition  to  the  Vitali  household — 
began  to  prepare  the  tea-table.  The  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  was 
not  ill-pleased  at  an  interruption  which  relieved  her  of  the  necessity 
to  explain  what  it  was  that  she  had  forgotten.  Her  glance  fell  on 
the  book  Cristina  had  dropped,  and  which  lay  close  beside  her 
chair.     To  look  at  the  title  of  any  book  near  her  was  a  tempta- 


TEMPTATION  59 

ti'on  Vittoria  never  had  been  able  to  withstand.  Stooping  down, 
she  picked  up  the  volume,  and  as  she  read  its  name,  raised  her 
eyebrows  in  some  astonishment. 

"Vitali  never  told  me  that  he  had  married  a  student  of 
metaphysics  ! "  she  said,  with  a  smile.  "  Do  you  really  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you  were  reading  Schopenhauer  when  I  disturbed 
you  ?  "  she  added. 

"  Our  cousin,  Fabrizio  Vitali,  lent  it  to  me,"  replied  Cristina. 
"  He  is  staying  with  us,  you  know.  I  am  very  much  interested 
in  the  questions  he  writes  of." 

"  Does  he  write — your  cousin,  I  mean  ?  "  asked  Vittoria. 

Countess  Vitali  glanced  at  her  suspiciously,  scenting  malice  in 
the  question.  "I  meant  Schopenhauer,  not  Fabrizio,"  she  ex- 
plained. "  But  you,  no  doubt,  read  all  his  works,  duchessa.  Ugo 
has  often  told  me  that  you  are  a  student  of  such  subjects." 

Vittoria  laughed.  "I  ? "  she  exclaimed.  "  No  !  I  cannot 
afford  myself  the  time,  even  if  I  possessed  the  brains.  My 
studies,  such  as  they  are,  are  limited  to  the  more  prosaic  questions 
of  everyday  life.  So  your  cousin  is  a  student  of  philosophy ; 
that  is  very  interesting.  Some  tea?  yes,  thank  you,  but  very 
weak,  and  with  much  sugar." 

"  Here  he  is  to  answer  for  himself,"  said  Cristina,  as  Fabrizio 
at  that  moment  appeared  on  the  terrace  and  came  towards  them. 
"Let  me  present  my  cousin  to  you,"  she  added,  as  he  ap- 
proached the  tea-table,  "  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice,"  she 
continued  to  Fabrizio. 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  turned  on  him  the  tranquil,  penetrating 
glance  which,  all  unknown  to  herself,  she  was  in  the  habit  of 
bestowing  on  a  new  acquaintance. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself?"  asked  Cristina. 
"  I  have  not  seen  you  since  breakfast." 

"  I  had  letters  to  write,"  answered  Fabrizio,  "  and  afterwards — 
shall  I  confess  it? — I  went  to  sleep." 

"  Over  another  volume  of  Schopenhauer?  "  asked  the  Duchessa 
di  San  Felice,  smiling. 

Fabrizio  looked  as,  indeed,  he  felt,  gratified.  It  was  evident 
that  Cristina  and  her  visitor  had  been  talking  about  hina. 


60  TEMPTATION 

"  Ah,  no,  duchessa,"  he  replied,  *'  I  do  not  go  to  sleep  over 
Schopenhauer !  I  read  him  often  at  nights,  when  I  cannot  sleep." 

"  That  seems  to  me  to  come  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end," 
observed  Vittoria,  a  little  drily.  "  At  least,"  she  added,  "  I  hope 
so,  for  your  sake  !  " 

"  He  has  studied  too  hard,"  interposed  Countess  Vitali, 
"  that  is  the  reason  why  he  is  now  leading  our  very  dull  life  at 
Viterbo ! " 

Vittoria  looked  at  the  young  man  with  renewed  interest.  "  You 
have  an  object  in  view,  of  course,"  she  said  to  him ;  "  one  does 
not  read  the  philosophers  without  some  special  reason  for  doing 
so  j  at  least,  one  does  not  study  them  to  the  extent  of  injury  to 
he'alth.  Some  day,  I  suppose,  we  shall  learn  your  object  in  the 
pages  of  a  work  of  your  own." 

Fabrizio  Vitali  was  a  little  disconcerted.  He  had  never  been 
asked  so  leading  a  question  before,  in  connection  with  his 
philosophic  studies. 

"  My  object  ? "  he  repeated,  "  I  really  can  hardly  tell  you, 
duchessa.  I  suppose  my  object  is  to  emancipate  myself,  and 
help  to  emancipate  others,  as  much  as  possible  from  the  childish 
superstitions  in  which  we  were  most  of  us  brought  up." 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  made  no  reply,  and  stirred  her  tea  with 
a  thoughtful  air  as  though  she  were  considering  Fabrizio's  remark, 
which,  indeed  was  what  she  was  doing,  although  not  in  a  manner 
very  flattering  to  the  maker  of  it.  "Vitali,  I  suppose,  is  out," 
she  observed  presently,  turning  to  Countess  Vitali. 

"  He  is  not  often  in  ! "  replied  Cristina.  "  He  will  be  very 
sorry  to  have  missed  your  visit,  duchessa,"  she  added.  "  As  you 
know,  you  are  one  of  the  few  people  he  cares  to  talk  to." 

"Am  I?"  said  Vittoria  laughing.  "Do  you  know,  contessa,  I 
regard  that  as  a  great  compliment.  Sicuro  !  your  husband  and  I 
are  old  friends,  and  I  am  always  very  pleased  to  see  him.  But 
you  will  all  come  and  breakfast  with  me  one  of  these  days,  will 
you  not  ?  and  I  insist  upon  Vitali  accompanying  you.  I  will  not 
accept  any  excuses  from  him.  He  may  ride  over  to  Villa 
Falconara,  if  he  likes,  after  he  has  got  through  his  morning's 
business,  and  meet  you  and  your  cousin  there." 


TEMPTATION  61 

Cristina  looked  at  Fabrizio.  "It  would  be  delightful,"  she 
began. 

"  You  will  be  interested  in  the  villa,"  continued  Vittoria  to 
Fabrizio,  "  if  you  care  for  historical  things.  By  the  way,  it  ought 
to  belong  to  your  family,  I  believe,  if  everybody  had  their  rights. 
It  was  a  Maidalchini  villa  in  old  days,  and  the  home  of  your 
naughty  ancestress  Donna  Giulia." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it  immensely,"  returned  Fabrizio.  "  How 
did  it  come  into  the  possession  of  the  San  Felice  ? " 

Vittoria  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  have  not  the  least 
notion  ! "  she  replied.  "  I  conclude  they  bought  it,  or  stole  it. 
I  will  show  you  an  old  chestnut  tree  in  the  garden  which  was 
supposed  to  bear  miraculous  fruit." 

Fabrizio  smiled.  "  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  do  not  suppose 
you  believe  in  miracles,  duchessa,"  he  remarked. 

"  This  miracle  was  a  practical  joke,"  proceeded  Vittoria, 
ignoring  the  observation,  "probably  the  only  one  intentionally 
played  by  a  Pope  on  the  faithful — at  least,  as  a  good  Catholic,  I 
am  bound  to  suppose  so !  The  Maidalchini  on  one  occasion 
entertained  their  brother-in-law.  Innocent  X.,  in  what  is 
now  called  the  Villa  Falconara.  The  Pope,  together  with 
certain  members  of  the  family,  caused  roasted  chestnuts  to 
be  placed  inside  the  outer  husks  of  the  fruit  growing  on  an 
old  chestnut  tree,  and  these  were  afterwards  beaten  down 
in  the  usual  way.  When  the  chestnuts  were  extracted  and  found 
to  be  already  roasted,  the  peasants  cried  al  miracolo  I  with  the 
result  that  the  report  rapidly  spread  that  the  Holy  Father  had 
performed  a  miracle  and  caused  roasted  chestnuts  to  be  gathered 
from  the  tree.  Crowds  came  from  all  parts  of  the  district  to 
look  at  the  wonderful  tree — much  to  the  Pope's  diversion.  I 
always  like  that  story,"  continued  Vittoria,  "there  is  a  human 
touch  about  it  which  is  refreshing."  ^ 

"  And  a  miracle  as  genuine  as  all  the  rest  we  are  asked  by  the 
priests  to  believe  in,"  added  Fabrizio. 

"  I  will  show  you  the  tree,"  repeated  Vittoria.     "  Of  course,  it 

^  This  episode  is  described  in  contemporary  MSS.  and  by  Bussi  in  his 
Isioria  della  citid  di  Viterbo  (Roma,  1472). 


62  TEMPTATION 

cannot  be  the  original  tree,  as  the  people  declare,  but  I  have  no 
doubt  it  is  a  lineal  descendant." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards,  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  rose,  and 
Cristina  and  Fabrizio  accompanied  her  to  the  courtyard,  where 
her  carriage  was  waiting  for  her.  "  It  is  understood,  then,  that 
you  will  all  come  to  breakfast  with  me  one  day  next  week,  shall 
we  say  Tuesday,  if  that  suits  your  arrangements?  Arrivederci 
dunque,  cara  contessa,  and  a  thousand  things  to  your  husband ! 
Do  not  forget  to  tell  him  that  I  will  positively  not  listen  to 
any  of  his  excuses." 

"  I  assure  you  that  he  will  make  none  ! "  repHed  Cristina  ;  and 
as  she  spoke  she  looked  at  Fabrizio  with  a  scarcely  concealed 
smile.  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  saw  the  smile,  and  kept  it  in  her 
mind  for  further  analysis  during  her  drive  homewards.  She  was 
driving  herself,  and,  taking  the  reins  from  the  groom,  she  bade 
Countess  Vitali  good-bye  and  with  a  bow  to  Fabrizio  drove 
through  the  gateway,  the  heavy  doors  of  which  were  immediately 
closed  behind  her  by  the  porter. 

Cristina,  followed  by  Fabrizio,  returned  to  their  seats  on  the 
terrace. 

"  So  that,"  said  Fabrizio,  "  is  the  San  Felice.  I  have  often 
heard  of  her,  of  course,  but  I  did  not  know  that  she  was  a 
neighbour  of  yours.  She  is  certainly  an  attractive  woman.  I 
suppose  that  is  why  people  are  so  ready  to  think  her  clever." 

"  You  do  not  find  her  so  ?  "  asked  Cristina. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  she  impressed  me  with  her  cleverness," 
returned  Fabrizio ;  "  her  remark  as  to  only  having  time  to  occupy 
herself  with  the  things  of  everyday  life  seemed  to  me  to  be 
anything  but  a  sign  of  being  clever." 

"  You  must  not  say  so  to  Ugo,"  observed  Cristina. 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "  Is  he  so  devoted  to  her  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  They  are  old  friends,  as  you  heard  her  say,"  replied  Cristina. 
"  Ugo  always  quotes  her  as  being  the  cleverest  woman  he  knows, 
though,  to  be  sure,  he  does  not  know  many  women,  clever  or 
otherwise.  I  have  often  wondered  why  he  did  not  marry  her, 
as  he  admires  her  so  much." 


TEMPTATION  63 

"  I  do   not  wonder  at  all,"  Fabrizio  said.     "  I  can  conceive 

no  greater  contrast  in  women  than  you  and  the  San  Felice." 

"I  meant,  of  course,  before  he  married  me,"  said  Cristina 
laughing.  "  The  San  Felice,"  she  added,  "  had  already  been  a 
widow  for  some  years  before  Ugo  and  I  ever  saw  one  another. 
I  often  think  he  would  have  been  much  happier  had  he  married 
her." 

"  It  is  incredible  !  "  murmured  Fabrizio. 

"  What  is  incredible !  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  perfectly 
credible  that  he  would  have  been  happier.  But  you  must  not 
run  away  with  the  idea  that  I  am  jealous  of  the  San  Felice  !  she 
is  virtue  personified ;  and  as  to  Ugo " 

"  And  you,"  said  Fabrizio,  "  would  you  have  been  happier  if 
Ugo  had  married  her  ?  cara  mia  cugina,  you  must  not  think  that 
I  am  very  indiscreet.  We  have  so  much  in  common,  so  many 
ideas  and  feelings  which  Ugo,  with  his  different  mind  and 
temperament,  could  not  enter  into,  that  surely  I  may  be  allowed 
to  show  you  that  I  can  perhaps  understand  you  better  than  he 
can.  Of  course  you  are  not  jealous  of  the  San  Felice  !  the  sun 
might  as  well  be  jealous  of  a  block  of  ice." 

Cristina  did  not  reply  for  a  moment  or  two.  "  She  came  here 
to  spy,"  she  said  presently,  with  a  slight  laugh,  "  like  the  rest  of 
them." 

"To  spy?"  repeated  Fabrizio,  '*  what  do  you  mean,  Cristina?  " 

"  You  do  not  know  these  people  !  "  exclaimed  Cristina  angrily ; 
and  Fabrizio,  as  he  looked  at  her,  thought  how  like  she  was  at 
that  moment  to  a  handsome  woman  of  the  Ciociaria.  "  The  San 
Felice  came  to  spy,  I  tell  you  !"  she  repeated.  "She  knew  well 
enough  that  you  were  here." 

"  I  ?  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio,  astonished.  "  What  could  the  fact  of 
my  being  here  matter  to  her  ?     I  do  not  understand " 

"  It  is  not  the  least  necessary  that  you  should  understand," 
returned  Cristina,  "  but  I  understand,  and  that  is  enough.  These 
Viterbesi  think  that  I  am  not  good  enough  for  Ugo,  because  I 
was  not  noble.  All  the  same,  they  can  take  the  trouble  to  write 
me  anonymous  letters  ! " 

"That  is  a  very  ordinary  proceeding,"  observed  Fabrizio  Vitali 


64  TEMPTATION 

tranquilly.  "  In  Rome  people  frequently  get  anonymous  letters, 
and  in  Florence  I  am  told  that  it  is  quite  unfashionable  not  to 
receive  them  periodically." 

"  I  have  only  had  one,"  said  Cristina.     "  It  was  about  Ugo." 

"  Naturally !  if  Ugo  had  received  one,  it  would  have  been 
about  you." 

"  It  said  that  Ugo  only  married  me  after  he  had  been  refused 
by  the  San  Felice." 

"  And  did  you  show  the  letter  to  Ugo  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not !  why  should  I  have  shown  it  to  him  ?  Per 
caritjl,  do  not  ever  mention  it  to  him  ! " 

"  It  is  another  confidence,"  replied  Fabrizio.  *'  I  hope  you  do 
not  think  me  capable  of  betraying  a  confidence  between  you  and 
me.     But,  forgive  me  for  asking  you,  do  you  believe  the  story  ?  " 

Cristina  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Chi  sa?"  she  answered. 
"  It  may  be  true,  or  it  may  be  a  lie.  In  any  case,  it  does  not 
matter  now.     Only,  I  should  like  to  know  who  wrote  the  letter." 

"  The  San  Felice  herself,  probably  !  " 

Cristina  clasped  her  hands  together.  "  Fabrizio,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  you  and  I  certainly  see  things  in  the  same  light !  I  have  often 
suspected  the  San  Felice  of  having  written  that  letter.  She  has 
always  pretended  to  be  so  friendly,  and  that  made  me  suspect  her 
all  the  more.  I  daresay  she  is  in  love  with  Ugo,  and  would  have 
married  him  had  he  been  of  her  own  world.  But  I  am  not  jealous 
of  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice — niente  affatto  !  it  is  more  likely  that 
she  is  jealous  of  me  !  " 

Fabrizio  nodded.  "It  is  very  possible,"  he  replied.  "She 
does  not  take  the  trouble  to  conceal  her  friendship  for  Ugo,"  he 
added,  "  and  yet  you  tell  me  that  she  is  a  clever  woman,  Cristina. 
It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  much  cleverer  than  she  is,  for  you  do 
not  show  her  your  hand." 

Countess  Vitali's  face  suddenly  assumed  the  expression  half 
suspicious  and  half  cunning  that  Fabrizio  had  remarkad  on  more 
than  one  occasion.  This  time,  however,  he  did  not  see  it,  as  he 
had  risen  from  his  chair  to  pour  himself  out  a  glass  oi  granita. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  said  quickly.  "  I  have  no  hand  to 
show.     Of  course  I  have  no  proof  that  the  San  Felice  wrote  that 


TEMPTATION  65 

letter,  and  even  if  I  had,  as  I  said  just  now,  it  would  not  matter 
if  what  the  letter  said  were  true.  After  all,  Ugo  married  me,  and 
he  did  not  marry  the  San  Felice,  so  what  is  donecannot  be  undone." 

"  Not  legally,  certainly ;  or  rather,  not  until  we  are  civilised 
enough  in  Italy  to  snap  our  fingers  at  the  priests  and  legalise 
divorce." 

"  Or  morally,"  added  Cristina. 

"  No — but  immorally,  as  the  majority  would  pretend  to  consider 
it !  as  if  there  were  anything  more  immoral  than  living  with  some- 
body one  did  not  really  love.  But  I  do  not  want  to  shock  you 
by  my  theories  on  these  subjects.  It  is  my  misfortune  to  have 
been  born  a  hundred  years  too  soon,  and  to  be  in  advance  of 
the  age.  Another  century  will  see  the  disappearance  of  many 
antiquated  theories,  and  the  loosening  of  many  bonds  we  have 
tied  for  ourselves  by  our  religious  superstitions.  In  the  mean- 
time  " 

"  We  have  to  live  in  this  century  ! "  interrupted  Countess 
Vitali,  "and  you  must  admit,  Fabrizio,  that  life  might  be  more 
interesting  than  it  is  at  Palazzo  Vitali.  Can  you  conceive,"  she 
continued,  rising  from  her  chair  as  she  spoke  and  standing  over 
Fabrizio,  "a  man  in  the  prime  of  life  like  Ugo  vegetating  in  this 
hole,  when  he  might  be  making  a  name  for  himself  in  the  world — 
or,  at  all  events,  enjoying  what  the  world  has  to  give  ?  Is  it  not 
incredible?" 

"  It  is  diflficult  to  enjoy  life  in  the  world  without  money,"  said 
Fabrizio. 

"But  if  he  has  money?  What,  for  instance,  would  you 
do  with  your  life  if  you  were  in  Ugo's  position,  and  had 
come  into  a  million  and  more  of  money,  besides  the  income 
derived  from  his  property  ?  Would  you  look  on  at  your  land  being 
manured,  and  your  beasts  being  fed  ?  That  is  Ugo's  life ;  and  I 
have  to  listen  to  his  dissertations  on  the  quality  of  the  manure 
and  the  prices  he  expects  to  get  for  his  beasts  or  his  wine.  That 
is  my  life." 

"Ah,"  said  Fabrizio  thoughtfully  "if  I  were  in  Ugo's  shoes, 
it  would  not  be  mine.  But  that  is  always  the  way.  Those  who 
have  money  do  not  know  how  to  enjoy  it." 


66  TEMPTATION 

Cristina  Vitali  shot  a  quick  glance  at  him  from  under  her  heavy 
eyelids.  "  It  is  odd  to  think  that  you  and  Ugo  are  of  the  same 
blood,"  she  said :  "  you  are  so  utterly  different.  No — I  do 
not  suppose  that,  if  you  were  Count  Vitali,  you  would  be  content 
to  lead  Ugo's  bucolic  existence.  You  have  ambition — artistic 
tastes — love  of  society;  and  you  would  have  money — all  the 
things,  in  short,  which  mean  success  in  the  world  to  those  who 
know  how  to  use  them." 

Fabrizio  looked  at  her  curiously.  "  How  did  you  get  your 
experience  of  the  world  ? "  he  asked :  "  your  convent,  surely, 
could  not  have  supplied  it !  " 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  replied  Cristina  drily.  "  One  has 
plenty  of  time  for  using  one's  imagination  when  one  is  in  a 
convent;  and  it  is  quite  a  mistake  to  think  that  nuns  and  their 
pupils  do  not  know  what  is  going  on  in  the  world.  I  heard  more 
gossip,  and  learned  more  of  life,  while  I  was  with  the  nuns  at 
Perugia  than  I  have  ever  heard  or  learned  since  I  left  them." 

"  I  should  insist  on  Ugo  taking  me  to  Rome  in  the  season,  if 
I  were  you,  as  I  have  told  you  before,"  said  Fabrizio.  "Now 
that  he  is  so  much  richer,"  he  continued,  "there  can  be  no 
excuse  for  not  doing  so.  And  you  would  only  have  to  be  seen 
in  Rome,  Cristina,  and  the  world  would  be  at  your  feet ! " 

"And  Ugo  would  kick  it  away,  amico  mio !  "  replied  Cristina. 
"No,  if  you  were  Ugo,  per  esempio,  I  have  no  doubt  that  you 
would  take  me  to  Rome,  and  perhaps  even  to  Paris ;  but  you  are 
not.  By  the  way,  has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  how  very  near 
you  are  to  being  in  Ugo's  position  ?  I  have  often  thought  of  it, 
since  we  have  known  each  other.  If  anything  were  to  happen 
to  him,  everything  except  my  porzione  vedovile  must  go  to  you. 
Ugo  has  often  told  me  so ;  unless,  of  course,  we  should  have 
children.  I  have  many  times  wondered  whether  you  did  not  feel 
how  much  better  you  could  have  done  with  your  cousin's  chances 
in  life,  had  you  possessed  them.  Oh,  do  not  think  that  I  am 
accusing  you  of  wishing  any  harm  to  befall  Ugo,  or  of  coveting 
his  goods  !  but  human  nature  is  human  nature,  and  we  none  of 
us  can  help  thoughts  coming  into  our  minds.  Ugo  himself 
said  the  same  thing  to  me  the  other  day — not,  of  course,  that 


TEMPTATION  67 

you  might  think  how  much  more  you  could  get  out  of  hfe  were 
you  in  his  place,  he  would  never  understand  the  possibility  of 
such  a  thing!  but  he  paid  he  wondered  if  you  ever  thought 
how  very  easily  you  might  succeed  to  the  title  and  the 
property." 

It  was  Fabrizio  now  who  looked  at  Cristina  quickly  and 
uneasily.  Her  eyes  were  turned  from  him,  however,  and  were 
looking  beyond  him  into  the  distance  of  the  garden,  where  long 
shadows  were  beginning  to  creep  across  the  box  hedges  and  fall 
on  the  roses  clustering  round  the  stems  of  the  cypress  trees. 
Her  face  was  perfectly  impassive,  and  Fabrizio  tried  in  vain  to 
read  its  expression.  She  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  hardly  interested 
as  to  what  his  reply  to  her  question  would  be.  And  yet  Fabrizio 
was  keenly  conscious  of  how  leading  a  question  it  was.  Had  he 
thought,  indeed  ?  Why,  he  had  thought  not  once  but  a  hundred 
times  of  how  by  any  accident,  at  any  moment,  he  might  be,  as 
Cristina  said,  in  her  husband's  place.  And  had  he  not  come  to 
Palazzo  Vitali,  thinking  that  it  would  at  all  events  be  politic  to 
improve  his  acquaintance  with  his  cousin  ?  It  was  strange  that 
Ugo  should  have  made  that  remark  to  his  wife.  The  thought 
that  he  had  done  so  made  Fabrizio  feel  ashamed  of  his  calcula- 
tions as  to  his  chances  ot  succeeding  Ugo.  It  was  like  Ugo's 
generous  nature  to  feel  that  he,  Fabrizio,  might  not  unnaturally 
compare  their  respective  positions,  and  to  owe  him  no  grudge 
for  doing  so.  As  to  wishing  any  harm  to  befall  Ugo  in  order 
that  he  should  benefit  by  it,  Fabrizio  could  honestly  say  to  him- 
self that  Cristina  had  only  done  him  justice  when  she  declared 
that  she  knew  he  would  not  be  capable  of  such  a  wish.  He  did 
not  wish  it,  had  never  permitted  himself  to  wish  it.  But,  should 
fate  place  him  in  his  cousin's  place,  it  would  be  acting  the  part 
of  a  hypocrite  towards  himself  to  pretend  that  he  would  find 
fault  with  fate. 

Indignation  at  the  bare  suggestion  that  he  should  wish  for 
Ugo's  death — for  this,  afier  all,  was  what  wishing  him  harm  would 
mean — made  Fabrizio  answer  Countess  Vitali's  question  more 
frankly  than  he  would  probably  have  done. 

"  Of  course,"  he  replied,  "  I  cannot  pretend  that  I  have  never 


68  TEMPTATION 

thought  about  the  possibilities  of  my  succeeding  Ugo.  You 
would  not  believe  me  if  I  denied  it.  As  you  say,  human  nature 
is  human  nature,  and  I  should  hardly  be  human  if  I  never 
allowed  the  thought  to  cross  my  mind  that  I  am,  at  present, 
Ugo's  legal  heir.  But  as  to  wishing  any  harm  to  him,  no  !  I  am 
not  so  base  as  that,  Cristina,  and  I  should  hope  that  neither  you 
nor  Ugo  are  capable  of  thinking  it  of  me." 

"  Have  I  not  told  you  so  ?  "  said  Cristina.  "  Of  course  I  never 
supposed  you  to  be  compassing  Ugo's  death  in  your  thoughts ! 
But  you  would  certainly  be  scarcely  human  had  you  never 
allowed  yourself  to  think  that  he  is,  after  all,  mortal  like  the  rest 
of  us,  and  that  an  accident  or  an  illness  might  put  you  in  his 
place.  Nor  would  you  be  altogether  natural  if  you  did  not,  with 
your  views  of  hfe,  sometimes  think  that  you  could  derive  more 
enjoyment  out  of  that  place  than  Ugo  does.  I  should  not 
believe  you  if  you  declared  to  me  that  you  did  not  sometimes 
think  so ! " 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "  Then,"  he  said,  "  I  will  not  attempt  to 
deny  it !  Can  you  blame  me  if  my  view  of  enjoyment  of  life 
differs  from  Ugo's  ?  " 

"I?"  returned  Countess  Vitali.  "To  whom  do  you  say  it? 
Certainly  not.  But  do  not  let  us  talk  any  more  about  it.  As  to 
Ugo,  well,  he  is  strong,  far  more  so  than  you,  my  friend.  I  am 
afraid  you  must  be  patient ! " 

"  I  should  be  an  imbecile  to  allow  myself  to  think  seriously 
about  the  matter,"  said  Fabrizio.  "At  any  moment,"  he  added, 
laughing,  "you  may  cause  the  accident." 

"//"  exclaimed  Cristina. 

"  But,  of  course !  you  may  be  the  cause  of  an  accident  that 
would  make  me  no  longer  Ugo's  heir-presumptive.  I  should  say 
that  it  is  a  mere  question  of  time ! " 

"That,"  observed  Cristina,  "is  scarcely  a  subject  for  con- 
fidences. Do  you  know  that  it  is  nearly  half-past  six  ?  and  here," 
she  continued,  "comes  Ugo,  so  I  think  you  will  agree  with  me 
that  it  is  quite  time  we  changed  the  topic  of  conversation.  You 
have  missed  a  friend  this  afternoon,  Ugo,"  Cristina  said  to  her 
husband  when  he  joined  them  j  "  the  San  Felice  has  been  here, 


TEMPTATION  69 

and  was  very  much  annoyed  with  you  for  being  out.  We  are  to 
breakfast  with  her  on  Tuesday,  Fabrizio  and  I,  and  you  are  to 
come  too." 

"And  no  excuses,  at  any  rate  on  your  part,  will  be  received 
by  the  duchessa,"  said  Fabrizio.  "You  are  evidently  au  mieux 
with  the  lady." 

"Tuesday?"  repeated  Ugo — "  let  me  think — yes,  Tuesday.  I 
can  go  quite  well." 

"  That  is  very  fortunate,"  observed  Cristina — "  you  are  so 
seldom  disengaged  in  the  mornings." 

"Yes,"  answered  Ugo,  "it  is  very  fortunate.  Monday  I  have 
a  meeting  in  Viterbo,  and  Wednesday  there  is  the  hiring  of  the 
reapers.  And  how  was  the  duchessa?  You  had  not  met  her 
before,  Fabrizio,  had  you  ?  You  ought  to  get  on  well  together — 
did  they,  Cristina  ?  " 

Cristina  shook  her  head.  "You  must  ask  Fabrizio,"  she 
said.     "  If  you  ask  me,  I  should  say  only  moderately  well !  " 

"Ah,"  replied  Ugo,  "she  is  not  always  very  communicative  to 
strangers,  but  on  Tuesday  you  will  see  how  clever  and  agreeable 
she  can  be.  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  missed  her  this  afternoon 
Cristina,  is  it  not  nearly  dinner  time?  I  am  very  hungry. 
What  have  you  two  been  doing  all  the  afternoon  ? — talking  about 
books,  I  suppose.  Ah,  Fabrizio,  you  will  find  the  San  Felice 
worth  talking  to ;  she  is  a  great  reader,  and  knows  all  the  people 
best  worth  knowing  in  Italy — and  in  Europe  too,  I  believe." 

"  Dinner  will  be  ready  in  a  short  time,  Ugo,"  said  Cristina, 
somewhat  abruptly. 

"Meglio  cosi,"  said  Count  Vitali;  "I  must  go  and  change 
my  clothes,  I  suppose.  I  wonder  why  it  is  that  we  should  need 
to  change  our  clothes  because  we  are  going  to  eat  something." 

"  It  is  one  of  the  disadvantages  of  marrying  a  wife,"  re- 
marked Cristina,  and  her  husband  burst  out  laughing,  while 
Fabrizio  glanced  at  her  and  smiled. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

npHAT  evening,  when  Fabrizio  retired  to  his  own  room,  he 
-*■  felt  less  disposed  towards  sleep  than  usual.  He  tried  to 
read,  but  his  thoughts  resolutely  declined  to  be  forced  to  con- 
centrate themselves  on  his  book.  Do  what  he  would,  they  re- 
verted to  the  conversation  he  had  with  Cristina  that  afternoon 
after  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  had  left  them.  Needless  to 
say,  he  had  entirely  dismissed  from  his  mind  the  bad  omen 
which  had  disturbed  his  equanimity  on  the  first  night  he  had 
passed  in  Palazzo  Vitali.  The  crucifix  above  his  bed  had  been 
replaced  in  its  original  position,  presumably  by  a  devout  house- 
maid, and  Fabrizio  had  not  attempted  to  remove  it.  As  to 
Donna  Giulia,  she  had  certainly  not  given  any  signs  of  a  desire 
to  revisit  her  apartment ;  and  Fabrizio,  if  he  thought  about  her 
at  all,  merely  connected  her  in  his  mind  with  the  ignorant  folly 
of  those  who  could  seriously  believe  that  the  dead  were  anything 
else  but  dead  and  resolved  into  nothingness.  All  the  same,  the 
vividness  of  his  dream  that  night  he  had  been  weak  enough  to 
pass  on  the  sofa  instead  of  in  his  bed  remained  curiously  ini- 
pressed  on  his  memory,  and  he  sometimes  wondered  at  the 
persistency  with  which  it  would  return  to  his  mind. 

To-night,  however,  very  different  thoughts  were  rioting  through 
his  brain.  Never  until  that  afternoon  had  Cristina  spoken  so 
openly  of  the  unsatisfactory  conditions  of  her  married  life ;  and 
never  before  had  Fabrizio  found  his  cousin's  wife  more  attractive 
than  when  she  had  given  him  what  he  had  every  reason  to 
believe  was  her  full  confidence.  This  confidence  had  flattered 
his  vanity,  for  it  was  evident  Cristina  placed  him  on  a  very 
different  level  intellectually  from  that  upon  which  she  con- 
sidered her  husband  to  stand. 

But  Countess  Vitali  had  succeeded  in  doing  more  than  flatter 
Fabrizio's  vanity,  which  would  not,  after  all,  have  been  a  very 
70 


TEMPTATION  71 

difficult  thing  to  do.  She  had  succeeded  also  in  arousing  his 
sympathy — and  this  to  an  extent  of  which  he  was  as  yet  unaware. 
He  had  begun  to  tell  himself  of  late  that  it  was  certainly  very 
hard  on  a  woman  of  Cristina's  tastes  and  ambitions  to  find 
herself  condemned  to  lead  the  life  of  a  farmer's  wife^  without 
the  occupations  that  a  farmer's  wife  would  have.  Ugo,  no 
doubt,  was  a  buon  diavolo ;  and  he,  Fabrizio,  only  wished  that 
he  were  half  so  good  a  fellow  as  his  cousin ;  but,  all  the  same, 
Ugo  was  a  fool.  He  could  know  nothing  about  women — that 
was  clear.  Otherwise  he  would  realise  the  risk  he  was  running 
in  boring  a  woman  like  his  wife  to  death  by  compelling  her  to 
lead  a  life  she  hated,  and  not  making  any  attempt  to  understand 
her  character  and  temperament.  It  must  be  a  mere  question  of 
time  before  a  menage  so  conducted  fell  to  pieces.  Fabrizio, 
like  a  large  number  of  his  conntrymen,  had  no  very  lofty  ideals 
in  connection  with  women.  He  had  very  soon  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  whoever  Cristina  might  be  in  love  with,  that 
person  was  certainly  not  her  husband.  The  conclusion  had 
neither  surprised  nor  displeased  him.  It  had  not  even  particularly 
interested  him,  since  the  situation  was  an  incident  of  everyday 
occurrence.  What  did  interest  him,  however,  was  to  discover 
who  it  might  be  with  whom  she  was  in  love ;  and  the  fact  of 
being  unable  to  discover  that  she  was  in  love  with  anybody 
interested  him  still  more.  But  one,  at  least,  of  Cristina's  dis- 
closures that  afternoon  had  surprised  Fabrizio  very  considerably, 
and  caused  him  to  wonder  whether  Ugo  was  so  simple  as  he 
appeared  to  be.  The  story  of  the  anonymous  letter  concerning 
the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  was  at  all  events  strange.  Supposing 
its  contents  to  be  true,  then  Ugo's  wife  might  well  feel  that 
she  had  another  and  more  serious  grievance  against  her  husband 
than  the  fact  that  he  obliged  her  to  lead  a  very  dull  and  narrow 
existence.  Perhaps  Ugo  might  not  be  such  a  fool  after  all! 
For  some  reason  or  other,  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  might 
not  have  been  able  to  marry  Ugo  herself ;  but  that  was  no  reason 
why  she  should  not  have  allowed  him  to  marry  somebody  else — 
especially  a  woman  not  quite  of  his  own  class,  who  would  pro- 
bably be  satisfied  with  her  new  position,  and  whom  it  would  be 


72  TEMPTATION 

possible  to  regard  more  or  less  as  a  nonentity.  But  Cristina 
was  not  a  nonentity ;  and  if  Ugo  and  the  San  Felice  were  really 
carrying  out  il  commodo  loro  at  her  expense,  they  would  some 
day  find  that  she  was  doing  the  same  thing  at  their  own.  But 
Ugo,  Fabrizio  said  to  himself,  must  be  a  fool  in  other  ways. 
Was  he  blind  to  his  wife's  beauty  ? — and  could  that  beauty,  full 
blooded  and  voluptuous  as  it  was,  be  compared  with  the  more 
refined  charms  of  the  San  Felice  ?  Cristina  might  not  be  high- 
bred. Indeed,  when  Fabrizio  had  seen  her  side  by  side  with 
the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice,  he  had  realised  more  than  ever  that 
she  was  not  so.  But  if  men  only  found  pleasure  in  women  who 
were  high-bred,  there  would  be  far  fewer  complications  in  the 
world,  and  more  virtue. 

The  night  was  still  and  warm;  and  Fabrizio,  who  had  been 
staring  for  some  time  at  the  open  pages  of  his  book,  rose  from 
his  chair  and  went  to  the  window.  There  was  no  moon  now, 
and  the  nightingales  were  challenging  each  other  to  a  tournament 
of  song  in  the  deepest  shadows  of  the  gardens.  The  air  was 
heavy  with  the  scent  of  orange-blossom,  of  roses ;  and  a  night- 
flowering  creeper,  hanging  from  a  tall  cypress  tree  under  the 
house,  wafted  the  perfume  of  its  waxen-white  blossoms  into  the 
room.  The  sensuousness  of  the  scene  was  not  without  its  effect 
on  him.  The  train  of  thought  in  which  he  had  been  indulg- 
ing had  been  of  an  impersonal  nature ;  but,  as  he  stood  by  the 
window,  the  spell  of  the  summer  night,  with  its  hot  fragrance 
and  passionate  song  of  the  nightingales,  was  cast  over  him.  His 
thoughts,  impersonal  no  longer,  began  to  dwell  upon  Cristina's 
beauty ;  and  for  the  first  time  he  became  conscious  that  admira- 
tion of  her  beauty  and  curiosity  as  to  her  character  had  given 
place  to  desire.  He  turned  over  in  his  mind  all  that  Cristina 
had  said  to  him  concerning  her  husband,  and  much  that  had 
hitherto  puzzled  him  seemed  now  to  be  clear  enough.  Given  the 
opportunity  of  not  being  so,  would  Cristina  be  faithful  to  her 
marriage  tie?  Fabrizio,  as  he  asked  himself  the  question,  had 
already  answered  it ;  and  the  answer  sent  the  blood  leaping  more 
quickly  through  his  veins.  If  Ugo  were  such  a  fool  as  not  to  be 
able  to  understand  the  woman  he  had  married,  some  other  man 


TEMPTATION  78 

would  certainly  benefit  by  his  folly.  Some  other  man  !  Fabrizio 
started,  and  turned  hastily  from  the  window.  His  own  thought 
seemed  to  have  been  put  into  words  by  a  voice  not  his  own,  a 
voice  he  had  heard  before  but  could  not  identify.  So  clearly  it 
had  sounded  in  his  ear,  as  though  spoken  by  some  one  at  his 
elbow,  that  for  an  instant  he  almost  expected  to  find  that  he  was 
not  alone  in  the  room.  Then,  seeing  nobody,  he  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  must  unconsciously  have  uttered  his  thoughts 
aloud.  The  interruption  to  his  meditations  turned  the  current 
into  a  less  dangerous  channel.  Whoever  the  other  man  might 
eventually  be,  it  was  absurd  to  suppose  that  he  himself  could  be 
that  individual.  He  was  the  last  person  in  the  world  who  should 
take  advantage  of  Ugo's  incapacity  to  understand  his  wife's  nature. 
He  had  not  come  to  Palazzo  Vitali  to  make  love  to  his  cousin's 
wife,  but  with  a  very  different  object  in  view,  and  a  comparatively 
harmless  one.  The  influence  which  Cristina's  beauty  was  be- 
ginning to  exert  over  him  must  be  checked ;  and  he  must  watch 
himself,  lest  sympathy  might  kindle  into  passion  before  he 
realised  the  fact.  Moreover,  he,  Fabrizio,  and  not  Ugo,  would 
be  the  fool  if  he  allowed  himself  to  fall  in  love  with  Cristina. 
Calmly  considered,  it  would  be  entirely  to  his  advantage  were 
Cristina  to  become  an  unfaithful  wife.  Ugo  might  separate  from 
her,  but  he  could  never  marry  again  during  her  lifetime.  In  this 
case,  at  all  events,  the  fact  of  there  being  no  divorce  in  Italy  was 
a  distinct  blessing,  though  the  pandering  to  the  superstitions  of  the 
Vatican  by  the  Government  in  not  bringing  in  a  divorce  law  was 
a  subject  on  which  Fabrizio  held  the  strongest  views.  No  !  if 
there  were  to  be  divisions  and  possible  scandals,  it  was  obvious 
that,  for  his  own  future  advantage,  he  must  not  be  the  cause  of 
them,  however  agreeable  it  might  be  to  be  Cristina's  lover.  It 
was  strange,  Fabrizio  thought,  that  Cristina  should  have  questioned 
him  as  she  had  done  concerning  his  feelings  as  to  the  position  he 
occupied  as  Ugo's  heir-presumptive.  No  doubt,  however,  it  was 
mere  curiosity  that  had  prompted  her  to  do  so ;  and  after  all,  she 
had  prefaced  her  questions  by  the  admission  that  it  would  not  be 
natural  had  he  never  thought  about  his  possible  inheritance. 
Oddly  enough,  he  had  thought  but  little  about  it  since  he  had 


74  TEMPTATION 

been  beneath  Ugo's  roof.  It  had  interested  him  more  to  study 
his  cousin's  domestic  life  through  his  conversations  with  Cristina 
than  to  indulge  in  dreams  and  speculations  which  would  either 
never  be  realised,  or  only  be  so  when  he  would  probably  be  an 
old  man.  But  to-night,  perhaps  owing  to  Cristina's  allusions  to 
the  subject,  his  thoughts  dwelt  with  greater  insistence  on  the  fact 
that  one  life  only  stood  between  him  and  comparative  riches,  as 
well  as  a  title  which,  although  shorn  of  its  former  importance, 
was  among  the  oldest  in  the  country.  Cristina  had  certainly  been 
right  in  assuming  that,  were  he  in  Ugo's  place,  he  would  make 
much  more  of  the  position.  He  had  been  pleased  to  see  that  she 
had  quickly  noted  the  difference  between  him  and  Ugo  in  their 
respective  ways  of  looking  at  life ;  for  Fabrizio,  who  knew  no 
other  life  than  that  of  a  section  of  Rome,  prided  himself  above 
most  things  on  being  a  thorough  man  of  the  world. 

Sleep  came  late  to  Fabrizio  that  night;  but  before  it  did  so,  he 
had  quite  made  up  his  mind  that  it  was  very  necessary  to  keep 
careful  guard  over  himself,  lest  he  should  be  tempted  to  an  in- 
discretion which  might  at  the  same  time  turn  out  to  be  an 
irretrievable  blunder. 


CHAPTER  IX 

"yiTTORIA  DI  SAN  FELICE  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  herself. 
'  Her  expedition  to  Palazzo  Vitali  had  been  undertaken  with 
a  distinct  object  in  view;  and  that  object  was  not  merely  to 
perform  an  act  of  politeness  in  calling  upon  Countess  Vitali. 
The  duchessa,  moreover,  was  conscious  of  having  told  an 
untruth — or  rather,  of  having  told  only  half  a  truth — which  was 
quite  as  bad  and  much  less  courageous.  She  had  not  driven 
over  to  Palazzo  Vitali  for  the  sole  purpose  of  congratulating  the 
Vitali  on  their  having  been  left  a  fortune,  and  during  the  whole 
of  her  visit  she  had  felt  irritated  that  both  good  taste  and  good 
manners  prevented  her  from  saying  so.  For  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  perhaps,  Vittoria  had  not  only  condescended  to  listen  to 
gossip,  but  also  to  allow  herself  to  be  affected  by  it  to  the  extent 
of  taking  steps  personally  to  ascertain  how  much,  or  how  little 
of  that  gossip  might  be  true.  People  had  called  at  the  Villa 
Falconara  apparently  to  express  their  surprise  that  Count  Vitali 
should  have  no  misgivings  as  to  the  wisdom  of  leaving  his  wife 
to  pass  the  greater  part  of  her  time  alone  with  his  cousin — a 
young  man  of  whom  nobody  at  Viterbo  had  heard  before. 
Vittoria  di  San  Felice  did  not  in  the  least  care  whether  her 
visitors  were  surprised  or  not,  and  had  conveyed  to  them  her 
indifference  in  a  manner  that  was  unmistakable,  though  leaving 
nothing  to  be  desired  on  the  score  of  politeness.  Nevertheless, 
she  had  been  obliged  to  own  to  herself  that  she  was  not  in- 
different. For  some  months  she  had  suspected  that  Ugo's  marriage 
was  not  the  ideal  alliance  she  had  hoped  it  would  prove.  The 
Villa  Falconara,  though  some  six  miles  distant  from  Viterbo, 
was  close  to  an  outlying  part  of  the  Vitali  property  ;  and  Ugo, 
when  his  business  took  him  that  way,  would  occasionally  ride 
round  by  the  duchessa's  abode  in  order  to  pay  her  a  visit.  It 
had  not  needed  a  woman's  quickness  of  perception,  of  which  she 

75 


76  TEMPTATION 

had  something  more  than  her  share,  to  enable  the  Duchessa  di 
San  FeUce  to  come  to  the  concluson  that  her  friend  Ugo  had  not 
found  all  he  had  expected  in  matrimony.  Needless  to  say,  Ugo 
had  never  complained  to  her  of  his  wife.  He  had,  on  the 
contrary,  complained  rather  of  himself,  holding  himself  re- 
sponsible for  the  change  he  observed  in  her,  inasmuch  as  the 
life  he  was  able  to  provide  her  with  had  apparently  ceased  to 
satisfy  her.  Vittoria  had  agreed  with  him  that  the  absence  of 
the  interests  which  children  would  have  brought  into  Cristina's 
life  was  a  very  unfortunate  affair.  But  she  had  agreed  with  him 
on  no  other  point.  She  could  not  bring  herself  to  sympathise 
with  Countess  Vitali's  discontent  with  her  life  and  surroundings, 
the  more  so  since  these,  after  all,  were  very  much  better  than 
her  birth  could  have  given  her  any  right  to  expect  would  fall  to 
her  lot.  Vittoria  di  San  Felice,  rightly  or  wrongly,  considered 
that  it  was  no  affair  of  hers  to  open  Ugo's  eyes  to  the  obvious 
fact  that  his  wife  was  ambitious  to  see,  and  still  more  so,  perhaps, 
to  be  seen  by  the  fashionable  world.  His  evident  inability  to 
realise  that  any  life  could  be  more  satisfying  than  his  own  had 
long  been  a  characteristic  trait  in  Ugo  Vitali's  nature  that 
Vittoria  had  always  admired,  even  if  she  had  sometimes  been 
secretly  amused  at  it.  She  had  seen  enough  of  the  world  to  be 
able  to  appreciate  simplicity  and  single-mindedness  when  she 
came  across  such  idiosyncrasies.  They  were  rare  qualities  in 
most  countries ;  and,  as  she  was  well  aware,  rarer  still  in  her  own. 

So,  when  Ugo  Vitali  had  consulted  her  as  to  what  he  could 
do  to  make  his  wife  more  like  her  former  self,  Vittoria  had  not 
suggested  that  he  should  let  her  see  more  of  the  world.  The 
former  self  alluded  to  by  Ugo  she  suspected  now  to  have  been  a 
purely  artificial  self — assumed  by  Cristina  for  obvious  purposes. 
If  she  were  to  play  into  Cristina's  hands  by  advising  Ugo  to 
gratity  his  wife's  ambitions,  Vittoria  felt  that  in  all  probabiHty  she 
would  only  be  instrumental  in  bringing  about  more  serious 
trouble  in  the  future. 

The  remarks  which  had  been  made  to  her  during  the  last  few 
days,  however,  had  caused  Vittoria  to  wonder  whether  the  world 
might  not  be  a  safer  place  for  Ugo's  wife  than  Palazzo  Vitali. 


TEMPTATION  77 

For  a  good-looking  woman  to  be  thrown  upon  the  society  of  a 
young  man  all  day  and  every  day  was  a  pdsition  certainly  not 
devoid  of  risk ;  and  that  the  young  man  in  this  case  happened 
to  be  a  cousin  made  it  all  the  more  dangerous. 

And  so  Vittoria  di  San  Felice,  not  without  doing  violence  to  her 
feelings,  had  decided  to  try  to  find  out  for  herself  how  matters 
stood  at  Palazzo  Vitali,  and  had  sacrificed  her  pride  to  her  friend- 
ship for  Ugo  and  her  genuine  interest  in  his  domestic  happiness. 

As  she  drove  her  pair  of  strong,  black  cobs  back  to  Villa 
Falconara,  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  felt  that  her  visit  had  not 
been  a  success.  She  came  away  with  few  impressions,  but  with 
plenty  of  suspicions.  Perhaps  the  deepest  among  her  impres- 
sions was  that  Fabrizio  Vitali  was  a  detestable  young  man,  with 
an  air  of  petit  inaitre  about  him  that  particularly  annoyed  her. 
Vittoria,  knowing  herself  to  be  a  difficult  person  where  new 
acquaintances  were  concerned,  always  tried  to  be  charitable. 
She  wondered  whether  she  should  like  Fabrizio  better  when  she 
had  seen  more  of  him.  The  worst  of  it  was  that  he  was 
certainly  good-looking — in  his  way.  That  way  was  not  Ugo's ; 
but  this  fact  would  only  increase  the  probability  of  complications. 
But  the  most  doubtful  feature  in  the  whole  business,  the  duchessa 
thought,  was  the  philosophy.  Amateur  philosophy  was  apt  to 
bear  fruits  as  embarrassing  as  they  were  unexpected,  when 
studied  by  dilettanti  of  opposite  sexes.  Vittoria,  dexterously 
flicking  a  horse-fly  from  the  neck  of  one  of  her  cobs  with  her 
whip,  smiled  as  she  thought  of  Cristina  and  Schopenhauer. 
It  was  extremely  improbable  that  the  gossips  of  Viterbo  had 
ever  heard  of  Schopenhauer ;  but  that,  after  all,  was  an  accident 
which  was  not  likely  to  affect  their  opinion  as  to  Count  Vitali's 
rashness  in  leaving  his  wife  all  day  in  the  companionship  of  a 
second  cousin. 

On  the  whole,  Vittoria  felt,  she  was  not  very  much  the  wiser 
than  she  had  been  when  she  was  driving  to  Palazzo  Vitali. 
She  had  not,  of  course,  expected  that,  always  supposing  there  to 
be  anything  between  Cristina  and  Fabrizio,  they  would  give  them- 
selves away  to  a  stray  visitor.  Nevertheless  she  had  trusted  to 
her  woman's  wits  to  enable  herself  to  form  some  idea  of  the 


78  TEMPTATION 

terms  on  which  they  were  with  one  another.  Cristina's  manner 
had  completely  baffled  her ;  and,  on  reflection,  Vittoria  had  an 
uneasy  sensation  that  Countess  Vitali  had  divined  the  primary 
motive  for  her  visit  and  had  been  engaged  in  the  annoying 
occupation  of  laughing  in  her  sleeve. 

The  satirical  smile  she  had  noticed  on  her  face  when  Cristina 
had  declared  that  her  husband  would  certainly  not  make  any 
excuse  as  to  being  unable  to  breakfast  at  the  Villa  Falconara  had 
puzzled  her,  and  the  look  cast  at  Fabrizio  Vitali  which  had 
accompanied  that  smile  had  puzzled  her  still  more.  Could  it  mean 
that  the  excuses  would  come  from  Countess  Vitali  and  Fabrizio, 
and  that  Ugo  would  be  sent  over  to  Villa  Falconara  by  himself? 

At  this  stage  of  her  reflections  Vittoria  told  herself  that  she 
was  becoming  too  suspicious.  She  was  already  angry  with 
herself  for  having  gone  to  Palazzo  Vitali  that  afternoon,  for,  when 
all  was  said  and  done,  it  would  be  no  affair  of  hers  if  Countess 
Vitali  should  choose  to  behave  ill  by  her  husband. 

She  received  no  excuses,  however,  from  Palazzo  Vitali,  but 
only  a  note  from  Cristina  saying  that  she  and  Fabrizio  would 
drive  over  to  Villa  Falconara  in  time  for  breakfast,  and  that  Ugo 
would  probably  arrive  before  them,  as  he  would  be  riding. 

Villa  Falconara  was  a  good  specimen  of  those  palatial  dwellings 
erected  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries,  SD  often  to  be 
found  in  the  country  districts  of  Italy,  and  which,  shorn  of 
their  original  splendour,  present  a  melancholy,  though  always 
picturesque  appearance.  As  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  had  told 
Fabrizio,  the  villa  had  been  one  of  the  residences  of  the 
Maidalchini  family,  so  closely  allied  with  the  Pamphili  Pope, 
Innocent  X.,  whose  brother  had  become  the  second  husband  of 
the  formidable  Donna  Olimpia  Maidalchini.*  The  house,  a 
great  square  pile  of  four  storeys,  absolutely  devoid  of  any  archi- 
tectural features,  stood  on  rising  ground  and  at  the  edge  of  a  tract 
of  macchia  which  had  once  been  forest,  and  which  still  contained 
solitary  oak  trees  of  respectable  girth  and  age,  groves  of  gnarled 

•  It  is  perhaps  not  generally  known  that  Donna  Olimpia  Pamphili  was  the 
widow  of  Paolo  Nini  of  Viterbo,  whose  large  fortune  she  brought  to  the 
Pamphili  family. 


TEMPTATION  79 

ilex  and  stunted  cork  trees,  and  here  and  there  a  spreading  stone 
pine  with  its  umbrella-like  top. 

If  the  Villa  Falconara  was  not  a  beautiful  structure  externally, 
its  interior,  or  at  all  events  that  portion  of  it  in  which  the 
Duchessa  di  San  Felice  lived,  was  both  stately  and  comfortable — 
a  rare  combination  in  an  Italian  medijeval  country  villa.  Not- 
withstanding the  size  of  the  rooms,  they  conveyed  no  sense  of 
dreariness  or  neglect,  such  as  so  often  depresses  the  visitor 
to  similar  places  in  Italy.  The  apartments  which  Vittoria  di 
San  Felice  inhabited  were  as  luxuriously  furnished  as  any 
great  English  or  French  country  house  of  the  present  day. 
Palms  and  masses  of  flowering  plants  tastefully  distributed 
effectually  counteracted  the  stiffness  inseparable  from  most 
very  large  rooms ;  while  books  and  reviews,  of  all  kinds  and 
nationalities,  gave  them  the  air  of  being  lived  in  and  not  merely 
used  on  special  occasions  of  ceremony. 

The  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  was  often  quoted  as  being  a  very 
extravagant  woman  ;  and,  by  those  of  her  compatriots  of  a  more 
old-fashioned  school,  was  sniffed  at  as  being  altogether  too  foreign 
in  her  ideas  of  what  was  necessary  to  make  life  comfortable. 
Vittoria,  fortunately,  had  a  very  good  income  for  a  single  woman, 
and  she  saw  no  particular  reason  why  she  should  not  live  her  life 
as  she  chose ;  or  why,  disliking  ugliness  in  all  its  forms,  she 
should  not  have  pretty  things  about  her.  The  drawing-room  of 
Villa  Falconara,  where  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  was  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  her  guests  from  Palazzo  Vitali  that  Tuesday  on  which 
she  had  invited  them,  bore  ample  testimony  to  the  tastes  of  its 
owner.  Beautiful  specimens  of  old  Italian  furniture,  and  valuable 
pictures,  more  than  one  among  which  were  known  to  the 
ubiquitous  buyers  for  American  millionaires,  were  so  arranged  as 
to  harmonise  with  more  modern  surroundings.  Vittoria  was 
wont  to  say  that  flowers  and  books  were  the  great  peace-makers 
between  objects  of  furniture  inclined  to  swear  at  one  another,  and 
perhaps  she  was  not  mistaken. 

The  windows  of  the  drawing-room  opened  on  to  the  garden, 
and  green  awnings  outside  them  tempered  the  fierce  midday 
glare  into  a  soft,  subdued  light,  while  the  splashing  of  a  fountain 


80  TEMPTATION 

was  pleasantly  suggestive  of  coolness.  The  Duchessa  di  San 
Felice  was  not  alone.  A  priest  was  sitting  in  the  corner  of  a  sofa 
a  short  distance  from  her.  He  was  an  old  man ;  and,  except 
for  a  shrewd  but  at  the  same  time  benignant  countenance, 
insignificant-looking  enough,  differing  only  from  the  usual  type  of 
Italian  cleric  in  that  he  was  scrupulously  clean  both  in  person  and 
attire. 

Sitting  cross-legged,  a  pair  of  neat  shoes  with  shining  silver 
buckles  were  visible  beneath  his  soutane.  His  frail,  nervous 
hands  were  lightly  touching  each  other  at  the  finger  tips  which 
every  now  and  then  separated  and  came  together  again  with  an 
almost  rhythmical  movement  as  he  listened  to  Vittoria  di  San 
Felice,  while  occasionally  his  eyes  twinkled  humorously. 

"Sicuro,"  the  duchessa  was  saying,  "you  are  a  buffer,  Don 
Basilio — nothing  in  the  world  but  a  buff"er — for  the  next  few  hours, 
ben'  inteso  !  That  is  why  I  asked  you  to  breakfast  to-day.  You 
do  not  mind — no  ?  " 

"  Altro  ! "  replied  the  priest.  "  It  is  my  usual  employment,  del 
resto,"  he  added  drily. 

"  Your  usual  employment  ?  "  repeated  Vittoria. 

"Certainly.     A  priest,  you  know,"  and  Don  Basilio  paused. 

Vittoria  laughed.  "  Ah,"  she  returned,  "  I  understand.  But  in 
this  case  I  do  not  see  who  plays  the  role  of  Domeniddio.  But 
seriously,  Don  Basilio,  I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for  coming. 
During  breakfast,  of  course,  it  does  not  matter.  But  afterwards, 
Vitali  will  not  want  only  to  talk  to  his  wife — and  I — well,  I  do 
not  think  that  I  want  to  talk  only  to  that  young  man — j'ou 
understand  ?  " 

Don  Basilio's  finger  tips  tapped  each  other  more  quickly. 
"  Perfectly,"  he  replied. 

"  I  think  he  is  a  detestable  young  man,"  observed  the  Duchessa 
di  San  Felice  meditatively  ;  "  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  think  so.  He 
talked  nonsense." 

"  Cara  duchessa,"  remarked  the  priest,  "  if  he  is  only  a  detest- 
able young  man  because  he  talked  nonsense — "  and  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  without  completing  his  observation. 
•'  Intellectual  nonsense,"  proceeded  Vittoria. 


TEMPTATION  81 

Don  Basilio  smiled.  He  had  known  the  Duchessa  di  San 
FeHce  from  the  time  of  her  marriage.  Having  been  chaplain  to 
the  old  duke,  Vittoria's  father-in-law,  he  had  continued  to  hold 
the  same  position  in  the  San  Felice  establishment  ever  since. 
Being  also  the  parish  priest  of  a  village  on  the  San  Felice 
property  near  Villa  Falconara,  he  did  not  live  in  the  house  ;  but 
every  morning  he  said  Mass  for  the  household  in  the  chapel  of 
the  villa.  Nobody,  probably,  knew  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  more 
intimately  than  did  Don  Basilio ;  yet  he  was  not  her  confessor. 
Independent  in  her  religion  as  in  most  other  matters,  Vittoria 
preferred  to  keep  her  confessor  in  Rome  rather  than  in  her  own 
house.  A  sincere  Catholic,  she  had  at  the  same  time  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  being  managed  by  priests,  and  still  less  so 
by  any  individual  priest.  Don  Basilio,  being  a  sensible  man,  had 
never  resented  the  arrangement.  Indeed,  he  was  the  first  to 
recognise  the  advantage  of  not  knowing  more  of  the  Duchessa  di 
San  Felice's  spiritual  business  than  she  thought  fit  to  tell  him. 
His  affection  for  her  was  that  which  a  father  might  have  for  a 
daughter,  and  to  this  affection  was  added  a  profound  respect. 
Don  Basilio  had  been  with  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  in  the  hour 
of  her  bitterest  trial  and  her  most  crushing  sorrow — when  the 
news  had  been  brought  to  Villa  Falconara  that  her  husband's 
sailing  boat  had  been  lost  with  all  on  board  but  one  of  the  crew. 
Such  moments  beget  intimacy  of  the  deepest  and  most  sacred 
kind.  When  they  beget  respect  as  well,  they  are  the  foundations 
of  the  surest  friendship  the  world  can  know. 

If  Don  Basilio  smiled  at  Vittoria's  last  observation,  it  was 
because  he  knew  how  impatient  she  was  of  a\\  poses,  and  of  the 
intellectual  J>ose  in  particular.  "  What  kind  of  intellectual  non- 
sense?" he  asked :  "there  are  so  many  varieties." 

"He  is  giving  the  Vitali  lessons  in  Positivist  philosophy," 
answered  Vittoria. 

Don  Basilio  raised  his  eyebrows.  "And  Count  VitaH?"he 
asked  briefly. 

"  Count  Vitali  looks  after  his  estate." 

"  He  would  do  better  to  look  after  his  wife,"  observed  Don 
Basilio. 

F 


82  TEMPTATION 

"  So  I  should  like  to  tell  him,"  said  Vittoria.  "  But  that  is  one 
of  the  many  things  one  cannot  say,  even  to  an  old  friend.  Indeed, 
it  would  be  easier  to  say  it  to  a  stranger  than  to  a  friend." 

"A  curious  woman,"  said  the  priest  pensively. 

"  Are  you  alluding  to  the  Vitali,  or  to  me  ? "  asked  the 
duchessa. 

Don  Basilio  laughed.  *'  To  Contessa  VitaH,  of  course ! "  he 
replied.  "  God  forgive  me  if  I  am  uncharitable,"  he  continued, 
"  but,  whenever  I  have  met  that  woman,  I  have  felt  myself  to  be 
in  the  presence  of  something  evil.  I  have  never  been  able  to 
understand  why  Vitali  married  her." 

Vittoria  glanced  at  him  with  an  amused  look  on  her  face. 

"  Caro  Don  Basilio,"  she  remarked  quietly,  "  if  you  had  been 
able  to  understand  it,  you  would  probably  not  be  dressed  as  you 
are  ! " 

Don  Basilio  spread  out  his  hands  with  a  rapid  gesture.  "  Oh,  as 
to  that,  of  course  ! "  he  said.  "  But  there  are  other  things  which 
a  sensible  man  looks  at  when  he  takes  a  wife.  Ma  via !  one 
knows  that  where  women  are  concerned  argument  is  impossible." 

Vittoria  looked  at  him  attentively.  "You  think  the  Vitali  a 
bad  woman  ?  "  she  asked. 

Don  Basilio  shook  his  head.  "I  should  be  sorry  to  say  that," 
he  replied. 

"  But  if  you  feel  about  her  as  you  said  just  now  ?  " 

"  She  may  have  evil  in  her  and  yet  not  be  a  bad  woman.  We 
have  all  of  us  evil  in  our  natures ;  it  is  only  when  we  let  the  evil 
conquer  us  that  we  become  bad." 

Vittoria  was  silent.  Although  she  had  done  her  best  in  a  quiet 
and  unobtrusive  way  to  combat  the  prejudices  she  knew  to  exist 
against  Cristina,  she  had  never  found  her  simpatica.  She  had, 
when  in  Countess  Vitali's  company,  always  felt  herself  to  be  in  the 
presence  of  a  woman  whose  education  was  superior  to  her  breed- 
ing ;  but  of  all  people  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  was  the  last  to  look 
upon  this  as  an  offence.  She  had  never,  all  the  same,  felt  the  im- 
pression with  regard  to  Cristina  to  which  Don  Basilio  had  con- 
fessed ;  and,  knowing  him  to  possess  that  charity  and  large-minded- 
ness  which  so  often  are  the  gift  of  advanced  years,  she  could  not 


TEMPTATION  83 

but  wonder  what  it  was  that  he  had  observed  in  Countess  Vitali 
to  create  so  sinister  an  impression  upon  him. 

In  the  midst  of  her  reflections,  the  double  doors  at  the  end  of 
the  room  opened  and  a  servant  announced  Count  and  Countess 
VitaH.  Vittoria  rose  to  meet  them,  and  presently  introduced 
Fabrizio  to  Don  Basilio. 

'*  I  drove  with  Cristina  and  my  cousin,"  explained  Ugo.  "  It 
was  really  too  hot  to  ride,  as  I  had  intended.  You  see,  duchessa," 
he  added,  smiling,  "that  I  have  not  sent  you  an  excuse !" 

"  I  suppose  you  could  not  invent  one  that  you  thought  the  least 
likely  to  be  believed !  "  returned  Vittoria.  "  You  must  have  had 
a  terribly  hot  drive,"  she  continued  to  Cristina.  "  I  am  so  glad 
you  have  brought  your  cousin :  after  breakfast  he  must  go  over 
the  villa,  and  when  it  is  a  little  cooler  we  can  go  into  the  gardens. 
You  can  sit  and  talk  to  Don  Basilio,  Vitali,  as  you  know  the 
place  as  well  as  I  do ;  so  you  need  not  be  victimised." 

A  few  minutes  later,  breakfast  was  announced,  and  Vittoria  told 
Don  Basilio  to  give  Countess  Vitali  his  arm  and  lead  her  into  the 
room  where  it  was  served.  "  Your  cousin  must  take  me,"  she  added, 
addressing  Ugo,  "as  I  do  not  regard  you  in  the  hght  of  a  visitor." 

The  breakfast  itself  was  as  excellent  as  the  best  of  French 
cooking  could  make  it ;  and  very  different  in  its  refinement  from 
the  dishes  alia  casalinga  served  up  at  Palazzo  Vitali.  This 
difference  was  certainly  not  lost  on  either  Countess  Vitali  or 
Fabrizio.  Cristina,  indeed,  observed  everything  minutely.  The 
excellence  of  the  food  seemed  to  be  enhanced  by  its  surroundings. 
Roses  delicately  arranged,  and  chosen  from  one  variety  only, 
decked  the  table;  while  all  its  accessories — china,  plate,  linen, 
glass — were  soignies  to  the  last  degree. 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  was  an  admirable  hostess  at  all  times ; 
and  to-day  she  succeeded,  without  any  apparent  effort,  in  making 
the  conversation  during  the  progress  of  the  meal  purely  general^ 
skilfully  directing  it  into  such  channels  as  should  be  free  from  any 
hidden  rocks. 

Breakfast  over,  she  took  Fabrizio's  arm  again,  and  led  the  way 
to  a  room  which  she  used  as  her  own  sitting-room,  where  the 
servants  presently  appeared  bringing  coffee,  cigars,  and  cigarettes. 


84  TEMPTATION 

Motioning  Fabrizio  to  sit  near  her,  she  drew  his  attention  to 
the  celling  of  the  room.  "  It  was  painted  by  Pietro  Berrettini  da 
Cortona,"  she  said  to  him;  "he  painted  the  frescoes  in  the 
Palazzo  Pamphili  in  Rome  for  Innocent  X.,  and  no  doubt  was  after- 
wards sent  here  by  the  Pope  to  execute  work  for  the  Maidalchini. 
That,"  she  added,  pointing  to  the  central  figure  among  a  group  of 
allegorical  personages,  "  is  said  to  be  a  portrait  of  Donna  Olimpia, 
whose  room  this  is  supposed  to  have  been,  though  what  grounds 
there  may  be  for  the  tradition  I  do  not  know." 

"  And  does  Donna  Olimpia  haunt  Villa  Falconara,  as  her  sister 
is  said  to  haunt  Palazzo  Vitali  ?  "  asked  Fabrizio  laughingly. 

"  Vitali !  "  Vittoria  called  to  Ugo,  who  was  engaged  in  light- 
ing a  cigar  at  a  little  silver  spirit-lamp.  "Why  did  I  never 
know  that  you  kept  a  ghost  at  Palazzo  Vitali  ?  What  does  your 
cousin  mean  ?  " 

"  Did  you  never  hear  that  Donna  Giulia  is  said  to  walk  through 
the  rooms  on  ihepiano  iiobile  ? "  asked  Ugo  Vitali.  "  Don  Basilio, 
I  am  sure,  knows  the  story — as  he  knows  all  the  folklore  of  the 
district,"  he  continued. 

Don  Basilio  nodded.  "  Sicuro,"  he  said,  "  the  people  declare 
that  she  comes  back,  poor  soul,  to  revisit  the  scene  of  her  crime. 
As  to  Donna  Olimpia,  if  she  has  the  same  punishment,  perhaps 
she  returns  to  her  Roman  palace,  or  to  the  Vatican,  or  perhaps  to 
the  house  in  Orvieto  where  her  terrible  death  found  her  alone 
with  the  remnants  of  her  gold." 

Fabrizio  looked  at  him  with  a  sarcastic  smile  on  his  hps. 
"  You  speak  as  though  you  believed  in  the  possibility  of  such 
tales,  reverendo  !  "  he  observed. 

Don  Basilio  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  The  spirits  of  the  two 
ladies  are  not  in  my  keeping,"  he  replied.  "  As  to  possibility, 
or  impossibility,  I  am  no  judge.  With  God  all  things  are 
possible." 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  put  her  coffee  cup  down  on  a  little  table 
beside  her  and  rose  from  her  chair.  "  I  will  take  you  through 
the  rooms,"  she  said  to  Fabrizio,  "  and  we  will  leave  the  others  here 
to  smoke.  There  are  a  few  good  pictures,  if  you  care  for  such 
things." 


TEMPTATION  85 

Fabrizio  could  do  nothing  less  than  accept  his  hostess's  offer, 
though  he  would  have  preferred  to  embark  on  an  argument  with 
the  priest.  Vittoria,  however,  was  determined  to  prevent  any  such 
discussion  as  would  have  infallibly  been  the  result  had  the  subject 
been  pursued ;  moreover,  she  had  her  own  reasons  for  wishing 
to  improve  her  acquaintance  with  Fabrizio.  After  having  shown 
her  guest  one  or  two  of  the  principal  pictures  the  villa  contained, 
the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  had  rapidly  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  art  in  any  of  its  branches  did  not  appeal  to  him. 

"I  gather,  Signor  Vitali,  that  you  are  what  is  called  a  free- 
thinker, are  you  not  ?  "  she  said  to  him  somewhat  abruptly,  seat- 
ing herself  as  she  spoke  under  a  replica  of  the  misnamed 
Antinous  in  the  Capitol,  which  stood  at  the  end  of  a  gallery  con- 
taining a  small  but  valuable  collection  of  sculpture. 

"  To  be  frank,  yes,"  answered  Fabrizio.  "  I  hope,"  he  added, 
"that  you  are  not  scandalised,  duchessa?  " 

Vittoria  looked  at  him — more  critically,  certainly,  than  she  was 
aware  was  the  case.  *'  Of  course  not,"  she  said  quietly.  "  Why 
should  I  be  scandalised  ?  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  able  to 
think  at  all !  Many  people  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  learn  how 
to  do  it.  I  suppose,  then,  that  you  believe  in  nothing.  I  mean 
in  no  future  state." 

"  Precisely.  The  present  is  all  that  I  find  myself  able  logi- 
cally to  believe  in.     Anything  else  must  rest  upon  theory." 

"And  you  have  studied  those  theories,  of  course,  and  have 
found  them  to  be  untenable.  I  always  think  that  position  must 
be  a  most  enviable  one.  You  must  feel  perfectly  contented, 
perfectly  secure.  Nothing  that  you  do,  or  do  not  do,  can  make 
any  difference,  except,  perhaps,  for  an  uncertain  number  of  years 
or  fractions  of  years.  Yes ;  it  is  decidedly  an  enviable  position  for 
those  who  can  arrive  at  it !  " 

"  But  everybody  can  arrive  at  it !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "  The 
first  step,"  he  continued,  "  is  tlie  most  difficult.  It  is  always  a  hard 
thing  to  free  oneself  from  superstitions  that  one  has  been  taught 
from  childhood." 

"Ah,"  said  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  quickly,  "you  experienced 
that  hardship  ?  " 


86  TEMPTATION 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  Fabrizio  Vitali  carelessly,  "  I  suppose 
most  people  experience  it.  Besides,  I  have  a  mother  who  is  very 
devout.  Of  course,  until  I  grew  up  I  pretended  to  believe, 
in  order  not  to  distress  her.  But  one  cannot  keep  up  that 
kind  of  thing  later  in  hfe,  however  much  one  would  like  to 
do  so." 

Vittoria  looked  at  him  curiously,  but  she  made  no  remark. 

"I  can  see  that  I  have  shocked  you,  duchessa,"  Fabrizio 
continued,  as  the  pause  became  somewhat  prolonged.  *'  But, 
surely,  it  is  better  to  be  an  honest  disbeliever  than  to  pretend  to 
believe  what  is  repugnant  to  one's  own  common-sense  ?  I  know 
plenty  of  men  who  pretend  to  be  Catholics,  and  who  go  to 
confession  and  make  their  communion  merely  to  please  their 
families  and  to  be  well  with  the  priests;  while  in  reality  they 
regard  the  whole  business  as  a  farce,  concerning  which  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  make  a  disturbance." 

" I  am  not  in  the  least  shocked,"  said  Vittoria :  "as  I 
observed  before,  why  should  I  be  so  ?  These  are  questions  each 
one  of  us  must  settle  with  his  or  her  own  soul — and  if  you  lose 
yours,  signore,  that  must  be  exclusively  your  affair  and  not  mine !  " 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "  That  is  a  logical  way  of  putting  it,"  he 
returned.  "Most  people,  duchessa,  seem  to  think  themselves 
responsible  for  the  souls  of  others,  and  make  themselves  objection- 
able accordingly.  When  one  has  learned  to  disbelieve  in  the 
myth  of  the  human  soul,  however " 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  Vittoria  interrogatively. 

"Things  become  much  simpler,"  concluded  Fabrizio,  a  little 
confused  by  his  hostess's  interruption,  and  fully  conscious  of  the 
weakness  of  his  conclusion. 

"I  suppose  so,"  observed  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice. 
"  Nothing  makes  life  so  complicated  as  a  sense  of  responsibiHty. 
It  is  bad  enough  to  feel  responsible  for  the  present  welfare  of 
other  people's  bodies — and  as  to  responsibility  for  the  future 
welfare  of  their  souls  ! — but  you,  of  course,  feel  none.  You  could, 
for  instance,  do  a  person  a  great  wrong,  or  cause  another  to  do  a 
great  wrong,  without  being  troubled  by  any  sense  of  responsibility 
in  the  matter." 


TEMPTATION  87 

"  No,  no  !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio,  "  that,  forgive  me,  is  not  a  fair 
way  of  putting  it !  Disbelieving  in  a  future  life,  and,  therefore, 
in  the  human  soul,  does  not  imply  irresponsibility  towards  our 
fellow-creatures  in  the  only  life  we  have  any  reason  to  suppose 
that  we  shall  share  in  common,  but  quite  the  reverse.  You 
would  reduce  pure  philosophy  to  pure  selfishness,  duchessa !  It 
is,  on  the  contrary,  your  Christianity  that  is  the  most  selfish  creed 
the  world  has  ever  known.  What  unspeakable  horrors  have  not 
Christians  in  all  ages  inflicted  on  their  fellow-creatures,  simply  as 
a  result  of  believing  human  beings  to  possess  an  immortal 
soul  destined  to  future  reward  or  punishment  ?  " 

"  But  you  recognise  a  distinction  between  right  and  wrong — I 
mean,  morally  speaking  ?  " 

"  Of  course  !  they  are  terms  in  which  to  express  that  which  is 
beneficial  and  that  which  is  injurious  to  our  social  organisation. 
In  this  sense  we  have,  each  of  us,  responsibility  for  our  actions, 
not  so  much  towards  the  individual  as  towards  society  at  large." 

Vittoria  rose  from  her  seat,  and  began  to  walk  slowly  through 
the  sculpture  gallery.  "  We  are  getting  into  very  deep  waters," 
she  said  with  a  smile.  "  I  cannot  agree  with  you,  and  presently  I 
will  show  you  why.  We  do  not  know  each  other  well,  but,  all  the 
same,  perhaps  you  will  forgive  me  if  I  allow  myself  to  ask  you  a 
question.  It  might  be  an  impertinent  question,  if  I  wanted  an 
answer  to  it,  which  I  do  not ! " 

"  Signora  duchessa,"  replied  Fabrizio — "  per  carita  !  ask  me 
anything  you  choose,  and,  if  I  am  able  to  answer  your  question, 
I  will  do  so  willingly  !  " 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  shook  her  head.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  it 
needs  no  answer.  Some  day,  perhaps,  you  will  have  to  ask  it  of 
yourself,  and  answer  it  for  yourself.  Have  you  ever  been  face  to 
face  with  a  great  crisis  in  your  life — a  great  temptation,  or  a 
great  sorrow  ?  If  you  have  been  so,  and  if  you  had  no  faith  in 
a  future  existence — no  ideal  beyond  that  of  a  mere  opportunism, 
you  must  be  endowed  with  an  exceptionally  strong  nature  not  to 
have  succumbed  under  the  trial." 

"  I  should  hope,"  began  Fabrizio  eagerly. 

Vittoria  checked  him  with  a  little  gesture  of  the  hands.     "  Do 


88  TEMPTATION 

not  make  my  question  an  impertinent  one,"  she  said,  smiling, 
"  Remember  that  1  stipulated  for  no  answer  !  Do  you  see  that 
Hermes?"  she  continued.  "  It  was  found  in  sinking  a  well  on  a 
tenuta  near  Capua,  and  is  of  the  best  period  of  Greek  sculpture. 
A  London  dealer  makes  me  offers  for  it  regularly  twice  a  year,  on 
behalf  of  a  client." 

"And  you  cannot  come  to  terms  ?"  asked  Fabrizio. 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  looked  over  his  head  at  the  Hermes. 
"  I  do  not  answer  the  letters,"  she  said  coldly :  "  but  apparently, 
in  certain  matters,  it  is  not  easy  to  teach  English  and  American 
millionaires  good  manners,  or  good  taste !  Shall  we  rejoin  the 
others  ?  " 

On  returning  to  Vittoria's  sitting-room,  sounds  of  children's 
laughter  reached  their  ears  through  the  open  doors,  and  they 
found  Ugo  Vitali  engaged  in  romping  with  her  two  little  boys. 

"  Birboni ! "  she  said  laughingly,  as  they  rushed  up  to  her, 
"  who  told  you  that  you  might  come  here?  Vitali,  you  spoil  my 
children  disgracefully  !  They  always  find  out  when  you  are  here, 
and  behave  badly  in  consequence." 

The  boys,  aged  nine  and  seven  respectively,  showed  no 
inclination  to  take  their  mother's  remonstrances  seriously,  and 
neither,  for  that  matter,  did  Count  Vitali. 

"  We  are  going  into  the  garden  presently,"  he  said,  "  to  sail 
boats  on  the  lake  ;  in  short,  we  are  going  to  amuse  ourselves  very 
much." 

"  What  have  you  done  with  Miss  Wilson  ?  "  asked  Vittoria, 
speaking  in  English. 

"  Her  stomach  hurts  her,"  replied  the  younger  of  the  two. 

"  She  has  an  indigestion,"  corrected  the  other,  casting  a 
triumphant  look  at  his  brother. 

"  Hush,  Livio  !  "  exclaimed  Vittoria,  repressing  a  laugh.  "  How 
often  have  I  told  you  that  one  does  not  talk  of  stomachs  in 
English  ?  They  will  translate  their  Italian  idioms  into  English," 
she  added  to  Cristina,  "  and  the  results  are  sometimes  embarrass- 
ing when  their  governess  is  present.  She  is  a  good  soul,  and 
thoroughly  to  be  trusted,  but  she  has  an  indigestion  once  a  week. 
She  says  it  is  the  cooking,  though  I  order  roast  mutton  for  her 


TEMPTATION  89 

whenever  it  is  to  be  had,  for  I  know  that  the  English  of  a  certain 
class  are  miserable  if  they  cannot  eat  mutton.  Next  year  I  must 
get  a  tutor  for  the  boys." 

"  It  is  better  when  they  suffer  from  the  stomach  and  not  from 
the  heart,"  observed  Don  Basilio  gravely  ;  "  a  little  magnesia,  and 
everything  passes  well ;  whereas " 

"  But,  Don  Basilio  !  "  interrupted  Ugo,  laughing.  "  Is  he  not 
more  incorrigible  than  Livio,  duchessa  ?  " 

"A  great  deal  more  incorrigible,"  replied  Vittoria.  "What 
shall  we  give  Don  Basilio  as  a  punishment,  Livio  ?  magnesia,  or 
mutton  ?  " 

"  Or  Miss  Wilson  ?  "  added  Ugo. 

"  You  are  worse  than  either  of  them,  Vitali ! "  exclaimed 
Vittoria,  laughing.  "  And  the  punishment  he  suggests  is  out  of 
all  proportion  to  the  offence,"  said  Don  Basilio,  his  eyes  still 
twinkling  at  his  little  joke. 

Cristina  Vitali  had  moved  away  from  her  husband  and  the  two 
children,  and  was  turning  over  some  books  lying  on  a  table  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  room. 

"  Ugo  seems  very  devoted  to  children,"  observed  Fabrizio,  who 
had  joined  her. 

"  So  it  appears,"  replied  Countess  Vitali  indifferently.  "  I 
never  know  what  to  say  to  children,"  she  added ;  "  they  bore  me. 
Having  none  of  my  own,  I  cannot  be  expected  to  take  much 
interest  in  those  of  other  people." 

"  Then,  perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  you  have  none  of  your  own," 
said  Fabrizio. 

"  It  is  certainly  as  well  for  you  that  I  am  not  likely  to  have 
any,"  replied  Cristina,  in  a  low  voice. 

Fabrizio  Vitali  could  scarcely  repress  a  start  of  surprise.  It 
was  an  admission  of  considerable  moment  to  him,  for  he  had 
never  expected  to  know  definitely  what  his  chances  of  succeeding 
to  the  Vitali  possessions  might  be.  For  an  instant  or  two  he 
remained  almost  bewildered,  and  even  shocked,  at  Cristina's 
disclosure.  It  seemed  to  be  carrying  the  confidence  which,  as 
he  had  repeatedly  assured  her,  was  the  natural  outcome  of  their 
mutual  sympathy,  a  little  too  far.     Moreover,  there  was  a  certain 


90  TEMPTATION 

cynicism  about  the  remark,  a  certain  brutality,  indeed,  wliich  gave 
him  a  sudden  feeling  of  repulsion.  Involuntarily  he  glanced 
across  the  room  to  where  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  was  sitting, 
her  arm  round  her  younger  boy,  who  had  clambered  on  to  her 
lap.  Possibly  Countess  Vitali  followed  his  glance,  and  at  the 
same  time  divined  the  thought  that  passed  through  his  mind  ;  for 
her  eyes  contracted  and  her  brow  lowered  in  the  sulky  frown  of 
the  angry  ciociara  model  she  was  said  to  resemble.  The  expres- 
sion passed  quickly,  however,  to  be  succeeded  by  a  rapid  and 
furtive  look  at  Fabrizio,  who  stood  by  her  side  in  silence,  not 
knowing  how  to  answer  her. 

"You  think  I  ought  not  to  have  said  that,"  she  said,  almost 
beneath  her  breath — "  that  it  was  not  womanly  ?  I  do  not  know 
what  impelled  me  to  say  it.  Perhaps  the  feeling  that  you  might 
be  glad  to  hear  it  made  me  forget  that  one  must  not  always  speak 
one's  thoughts  aloud  !  What  did  the  San  Felice  talk  to  you 
about?"  she  added,  with  a  sudden  change  in  the  tone  of  her 
voice,  as  though  to  intimate  that  she  wished  to  change  the  subject. 

Fabrizio  hesitated.  "  She  showed  me  some  of  the  pictures," 
he  said,  "  and  we  talked  of  various  things." 

"  Of  Ugo  and  myself,  for  instance  ?  " 

"No,  indeed  !  she  never  mentioned  either  of  you.  I  am  sure 
that  the  San  Felice  is  a  good  woman,  though  evidently  a  strong 
Catholic,  notwithstanding  her  liberal  ideas." 

"Did  she  preach  you  a  sermon  on  your  infidelity  to  the  Church?" 
asked  Cristina  sarcastically. 

Fabrizio  was  about  to  reply,  when  Vittoria  came  towards  them. 
"  Please  forgive  me,"  she  said  to  Cristina.  "  I  am  afraid  the  boys 
have  been  tiresome  !  I  did  not  mean  them  to  appear  so  soon, 
but  they  escaped  from  the  schoolroom  when  they  heard  your 
husband  was  here.  He  has  a  very  demoralising  effect  upon  them, 
■contessa,  as  I  always  tell  him." 

"  They  are  very  handsome  boys,  duchessa,"  said  Fabrizio. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  replied  Vittoria ;  and  then  she  added 
with  a  smile,  "  They  are  my  responsibilities." 

By  this  time  Count  Vitali  and  the  two  boys  had  already  escaped 
into  the  gardens,  whither  Vittoria  proposed  that  they  should  be 


TEMPTATION  91 

followed;  "otherwise,"  she  said,  "they  will  all  three  begetting 
into  mischief." 

The  gardens  of  Villa  Falconara,  unlike  those  of  Palazzo  Vitali, 
were  carefully  and  well  kept  up.  It  was  still  too  hot,  however,  to 
remain  for  any  time  in  the  flower-garden,  which  was  a  long 
parterre  immediately  beneath  the  house,  a  double  flight  of  broad 
marble  steps  leading  down  to  it  from  the  sculpture  gallery.  Wide 
paths,  flanked  by  orange  and  lemon  trees  now  in  full  blossom, 
intersected  this  parterre,  the  formality  of  which  was  relieved  by 
various  fountains,  as  well  as  by  the  blaze  of  colour  of  the  flower- 
beds and  herbaceous  borders ;  for  Vittoria,  having  been  often  in 
England,  liked  to  copy  English  gardens,  so  far  as  the  difference 
in  climate  allowed. 

Groves  of  ancient  ilex  trees  surrounded  this  flower-garden, 
among  which  were  shady  walks,  and  avenues  guarded  by  quaint 
leaden  statues  of  gods  and  goddesses  in  a  more  or  less  mutilated 
condition.  In  these  glades  quiet  and  coolness  reigned,  even 
during  the  hottest  hours  of  a  summer  day.  The  quiet  was  broken 
now  by  the  merry  shouts  and  laughter  of  Vittoria's  children,  who, 
assisted  by  Ugo  Vitali,  were  sailing  their  boats  on  a  piece  of  water 
lying  hidden  away  in  the  recesses  of  the  woods.  The  surface  of 
the  pool  gleamed  white  and  gold  from  a  floating  carpet  of  water- 
lilies,  while  blue  dragon-flies  hawking  for  insects  darted  to  and  fro 
after  their  prey,  flashing  like  jewels  in  their  setting  of  sunlight. 

On  a  little  island,  connected  with  the  mainland  by  a  stone 
bridge,  stood  a  casino,  its  white  walls  nearly  concealed  under  a 
mass  of  climbing  roses.  Within  it  v/as  a  circular  room  entirely 
faced  with  white  marble,  and  this  retreat  was  used  during 
the  summer  months  as  a  place  in  which  Vittoria  di  San  Felice 
often  read,  or  wrote  her  letters.  It  was  as  comfortably  fur- 
nished as  though  it  had  been  inside  the  villa,  and  here  also 
was  a  profusion  of  flowers  perpetually  renewed  by  Vittoria's  head 
gardener,  who  knew  his  padrona's  love  for  them. 

It  was  to  this  sanctuary  that  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  brought  her 
guests,  and  from  the  balcony  of  the  casino  they  could  watch  Ugo 
and  the  boys  in  a  boat  engaged  in  rescuing  their  sailing-boats 
firom  shipwreck  among  the  leaves  of  the  water-lilies. 


92  TEMPTATION 

"  I  believe  that  Count  Vitali  is  enjoying  himself  as  much  as  the 
boys  are,"  Don  Basilio  said  with  a  smile.  "  He  certainly  under- 
stands how  to  make  children  happy,"  he  added,  "  which  is 
a  gift  I  like  to  see  in  a  man," 

Cristina  smiled  also,  but  it  was  not  so  genial  a  smile  as 
that  of  the  priest.  "  Really,  duchessa,"  she  observed,  "  I  had  no 
idea  that  my  husband  was  of  so  domestic  a  nature !  It  is  the 
first  time,  I  think,  that  I  have  seen  him  with  children." 

Vittoria  looked  at  her  a  little  doubtfully.  The  words  were 
simple  enough :  perhaps  only  another  woman  would  have  been 
able  to  detect  the  traces  of  a  sneer  in  them. 

'*  After  all,"  proceeded  Countess  VitaH  composedly,  "  as  Don 
Basilio  says,  fondness  of  children — at  any  rate  of  other  people's 
children — is  a  gift  in  a  man ;  and,  as  you  know,  duchessa, 
Ugo  has  no  chance  of  exercising  that  gift  at  home." 

"  Cara  contessa,"  said  Vittoria  gently,  "  let  us  hope  " — and  then, 
remembering  that  both  Fabrizio  and  Don  Basilio  were  present,  she 
paused  abruptly.  "  My  little  boys  are  devoted  to  your  husband," 
she  continued,  "and  I  am  afraid  he  would  spoil  them  if  they 
were  more  often  in  his  company.  By  the  way,  Signor  Vitali," 
she  added,  turning  to  Fabrizio,  "  I  promised  to  show  you 
the  tree  which,  quite  regardless  of  the  fact  that  chestnut  trees 
do  not  live  for  four  centuries,  is  declared  to  be  the  original 
one  that  produced  Pope  Innocent  X.'s  miraculous  roasted 
chestnuts.  You  can  see  it  from  here,"  and  she  pointed  to 
a  venerable  Spanish  chestnut  standing  some  little  distance 
from  the  water's  edge,  the  sweeping  branches  of  which  were  laden 
with  prickly  balls  of  vivid  green. 

"  It  would  be  interesting  to  be  able  to  repeople  Villa  Falconara 
with  the  Maidalchini  for  a  few  hours,  and  to  see  how  they  really 
lived  in  those  days,"  said  Fabrizio. 

"  Ah,  I  often  sit  here  and  try  to  imagine  Donna  Olimpia, 
and  the  idiotic  nephew  with  the  sheep's  face  whom  she  caused  to 
be  made  a  cardinal,  and  all  the  entourage  of  the  Pope's 
court  that  she  made  her  own,  walking  in  these  avenues  and 
planning  their  intrigues,"  repHed  Vittoria.  "  This  very  casino  in 
which  we  are  sitting  was  built  by  Don  Camillo  Pamphili,  OHmpia's 


TEMPTATION  93 

son,  and  doubtless  she  and  the  Pope  often  sat  here  on  the 
occasion  of  his  famous  visits  to  the  villa." 

"And  my  ancestress,  Donna  Giulia,  also,"  said  Fabrizio, 
smiling.  "  Perhaps,"  he  continued,  "it  was  here  that  she 
and  her  husband  consulted  with  the  Maidalchini  as  to  the 
best  method  of  getting  rid  of  her  lover ! " 

"  No/'  interposed  Cristina,  "  I  am  sure  that  she  thought 
it  all  out  for  herself, — in  the  room  you  have,  Fabrizio,  at  Palazzo 
Vitali." 

"Certainly,"  said  Vittoria,  laughing,  "I  had  much  rather  that 
you  kept  Donna  Giulia  at  Palazzo  Vitali !  I  do  not  at  all  want  her 
here,  and  should  be  sorry  to  think  she  planned  her  crime  in 
my  casino.  Don  Basilio,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  ring  on 
the  telephone  ?  and  when  they  answer,  will  you  tell  the  servants  to 
bring  tea  to  us  here?  You  will  not  think  of  driving  back  to 
Viterbo  until  it  is  a  little  cooler,"  she  added  to  Cristina. 
"  In  the  meantime  you  and  I  will  go  for  a  little  walk,  and 
leave  your  cousin  and  Don  Basilio  to  discuss  Donna  Giulia's 
iniquities  together." 


CHAPTER  X 

"  T  WONDER,"  remarked  Fabrizio,  "  that  the  Duchessa  di  San 

-*•      FeUce  does  not  marry  again." 

It  was  the  day  following  the  visit  to  Villa  Falconara;  and 
Fabrizio  was  sitting  in  the  apartment  which,  in  virtue  of  a 
dilapidated  billiard-table  and  a  few  pointless  cues,  was  called  the 
billiard-room.  Cristina  and  he  had  been  alone  at  breakfast,  for 
Ugo  was  absent  for  the  day  on  business,  as  he  had  warned  his 
cousin  the  evening  before  that  he  should  be.  By  this  time  it  had 
become  quite  natural  to  him  to  find  himself  alone  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  day  with  his  cousin's  wife.  Ugo,  it  was  true,  invariably 
returned  to  breakfast ;  but  after  that  meal  he  would  usually  dis- 
appear again  until  shortly  before  dinner-time. 

It  was  now  nearly  a  month  since  he  had  arrived  at  Palazzo 
Vitali,  and  Fabrizio  had  enjoyed  ample  opportunities  of  accom- 
plishing the  object  for  which  he  had  come  there,  namely,  that  of 
improving  his  acquaintance  with  the  relative  whose  possessions 
might  one  day  pass  into  his  hands.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  however, 
Fabrizio  could  not  truthfully  say  to  himself  that  he  was  on  any  more 
intimate  terms  with  Ugo  than  he  had  been  at  the  commencement 
of  his  visit.  From  the  first,  Ugo  had  treated  him  with  the  same 
careless  confidence  with  which  any  man  of  a  frank  and  genial 
nature  might  treat  a  kinsman  whom  he  had  no  particular  reason, 
apart  from  the  fact  that  he  was  a  kinsman,  to  mistrust.  Fabrizio 
had  soon  come  to  the  conclusion  that,  in  the  case  of  a  camJ)agnuolo, 
such  as  his  cousin  evidently  was,  there  was  not  much  to  know, 
and  in  this  view  of  Ugo's  character  he  had  been  confirmed  by 
many  remarks  which  Cristina  had  let  fall  in  the  course  of  theii 
conversations  together. 

By  degrees,  and  by  a  mutual  consent  never  openly  expressed 
in  words,  it  had  become  a  habit  with  both  Fabrizio  and  Countess 
Vitali  to  reserve  the  more  interesting  topics  of  these  conversations 

94 


TEMPTATION  95 

for  the  hours  when  Ugo  was  not  present.  The  banalitis  only  were 
kept  for  discussion  during  meals  and  in  the  evenings.  Occasion- 
ally, when  he  and  Fabrizio  were  alone  together  after  Cristina  had 
retired  for  the  night,  Ugo  would  comment  with  satisfaction  on 
his  wife's  improved  spirits,  which  he  laughingly  attributed  to  the 
fact  of  Fabrizio  having  awakened  in  her  an  interest  in  books  and 
philosophical  arguments.  So  long  as  Ugo  was  content,  and 
entirely  unapprehensive  lest  interests  of  a  more  material  nature 
might  not  be  awakened,  Fabrizio  saw  no  reason  to  disclaim  any 
connection  on  his  part  with  the  alteration  in  Cristina's  frame  of 
mind  upon  which  her  husband  congratulated  himself.  Moreover, 
he  was  by  no  means  sure  as  yet  that  the  pleasure  Cristina 
apparently  took  in  his  society,  and  the  interest  she  displayed  in 
his  conversation,  were  other  than  purely  platonic  and  innocuous. 
That  his  own  interest  in  his  cousin's  wife  was  indubitably  becom- 
ing less  and  less  platonic  as  the  days  succeeded  each  other, 
Fabrizio  was  beginning  to  be  fully  aware.  He  was  too  sure  of 
himself,  however,  to  fear  lest  his  feelings  should  betray  him  into 
taking  any  false  step.  Did  not  Schopenhauer  contend  that  Will 
alone  was  the  determinating  factor  in  human  life,  and  that  both 
thought  and  intellect  were  but  secondary  accessories  ?  And  even 
should  passion  threaten  to  conquer  Will,  his  own  interest  must 
prove  an  additional  safeguard  against  allowing  passion  to  gain  the 
ascendancy ;  since,  as  he  often  told  himself,  whoever  might  in 
the  future  play  the  part  of  "the  other  man  "in  Ugo's  menage, 
that  individual  must  clearly  not  be  Ugo's  presumptive  heir. 

Countess  Vitali,  who  was  idly  turning  over  the  pages  of  a  novel, 
looked  up  quickly  as  Fabrizio  spoke.  "Why  should  she  marry 
again?"  she  asked:  "the  San  Felice  has  everything  she  can 
want  in  life,  and  of  course  her  retirement  from  the  world  to  Villa 
Falconara  for  a  few  months  in  the  year  is  all  a  pose.  A  woman 
with  her  position  and  fortune  is  always  in  touch  with  the  world. 
Apparently  she  has  made  a  great  impression  on  you,  Fabrizio  \ 
but  for  that  matter,  she  does  so  on  most  men  ! " 

"  All  the  more  reason  for  wondering  why  she  does  not  marry 
again,"  replied  Fabrizio. 

"She  hkes  her  independence,"  Cristino  said  :  "after  all,"  she 


96  TEMPTATION 

added,  "  it  is  a  great  thing  for  a  woman  to  possess,  and  a  rare 
thing.  What  did  she  mean  when  she  spoke  of  her  children  to 
you  as  being  her  responsibihties  ?  You  must  have  had  some 
serious  conversation  together  while  she  was  showing  you  the  villa. 
I  could  not  ask  you  before  Ugo ;  one  cannot  discuss  the  San 
Felice  before  him,  for  he  regards  her  as  a  piece  of  perfection  ! " 

Fabrizio  hesitated.  He  would  have  preferred  not  to  have  been 
asked  the  question.  He  had  seen  Cristina  look  at  him  enquiringly 
when  the  duchessa  had  made  the  remark  to  which  she  alluded, 
but  he  hoped  that  she  had  forgotten  the  circumstance.  Vittoria's 
words  had  returned  to  his  mind  somewhat  persistently.  What 
she  had  said  to  him  regarding  the  danger  of  being  without  any 
faith  in  futurity,  and,  therefore,  without  any  sense  of  responsibiUty 
for  the  future  of  oneself  or  of  others  in  the  critical  moments  of 
life,  had  been  said  with  an  earnestness  that  was  unmistakably  sin- 
cere, and  as  unmistakably  prompted  by  motive.  The  suspicion 
as  to  what  that  motive  might  be  had  immediately  entered  into 
Fabrizio's  mind,  and  caused  him  some  uneasiness.  But  it  had  at 
the  same  time  caused  him  to  wonder  whether  the  Duchessa  di  San 
Felice  might  not  be  more  in  Ugo's  confidence  than  even  Cristina 
had  led  him  to  suppose.  It  was  impossible  to  believe  that  Ugo 
had  expressed  to  the  San  Felice  any  fears  lest  a  cousinly  intimacy 
between  his  wife  and  his  guest  should  develop  into  an  intimacy 
of  another  nature,  but  he  might  in  all  innocence  have  talked 
to  the  duchessa  in  the  same  strain  as  that  in  which  he  had  talked 
to  him,  Fabrizio,  concerning  the  evident  pleasure  that  Cristina 
found  in  discussing  abstruse  matters  with  him  ;  and  the  duchessa, 
being  a  woman,  might  have  jumped  at  conclusions  very  different 
from  any  that  Ugo,  in  his  simple-mindedness,  would  be  at  ?.ll 
likely  to  form.  "  Of  course,"  proceeded  Cristina,  looking  at  Fabrizio 
inquisitively,  "  children  are  supposed  to  be  a  responsibility.  The 
Felice  need  not  have  wasted  her  breath  in  telling  you  as  much  !  " 

Fabrizio  laughed  a  little  uneasily.  "You  were  quite  right, 
Cristina,  when  you  suggested  that  she  had  been  preaching  me  a 
sermon  on  my  infidelity  to  religion  ! "  he  repHed.  "  She  declared 
that  nobody  could  have  any  sense  of  responsibility,  either  personal 
or  impersonal,  who  did  not  believe  in  a  future  life.     That,  of 


TEMPTATION  97 

course,  is  the  usual  argument  of  the  Catholics,  but  it  is  a  very 
weak  argument." 

"  What  does  she  mean  by  impersonal  responsibility  ?  " 

"Ah,  the  expression  is  mine.  She  meant  a  sense  of  re- 
sponsibility towards  others,  responsibility  for  their  actions,  I 
suppose — I  hardly  know  what  she  did  mean.  Religious 
people  are  very  seldom  logical." 

"  As  regards  the  difference  between  their  preaching  and  their 
practice,  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Cristina. 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  did  not  mean 
that,  though  the  difference  is  often  very  apparent  to  all  but 
themselves." 

Countess  Vitali  knitted  her  brows.  "  It  is  very  apparent  to 
me  that  you  do  not  want  to  tell  me  what  the  Duchessa  di  San 
Felice  really  did  mean  ! "  she  said  impatiently. 

"  You  do  not  like  her,"  returned  Fabrizio,  diplomatically  avoid- 
ing any  more  direct  reply. 

Cristina  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Ma  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
"  can  you  expect  me  to  like  her,  knowing  what  I  know  ?  " 

Fabrizio  stared  at  her.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  But  you  are  dense  to-day,  caro  mio  cugino,  decidedly  dense ! 
Have  you  forgotten  what  I  told  you  about  the  letter  I  received  ? 
and  your  own  suggestion  as  to  the  origin  of  that  letter?  No 
doubt  the  San  Felice  is  a  very  religious  woman,  and  makes  very 
edifying  remarks  as  she  seerns  to  have  done  to  you.  She  is  in 
love  with  my  husband  all  the  same." 

"  Cristina ! "  Fabrizio  exclaimed. 

"  There  is  nothing  surprising  in  the  fact,"  continued  Countess 
Vitali  tranquilly.  "  I  do  not  say  that  Ugo  is  in  love  with  her 
now ;  but  that  accident  would  not  prevent  her  from  being  still 
in  love  with  him." 

"  Then  you  believe  what  that  letter  said  ?  " 

"  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  In  that  case,"  observed  Fabrizio,  "the  San  Felice  is  extremely 
unlikely  to  have  been  the  writer  of  it.  I  thought  you  did  not 
believe  it,  or  I  should  not  have  suggested  that  the  duchessa 
herself  had  written  it." 

G 


98  TEMPTATION 

"  I  am  sure  she  wrote  it,"  Cristina  replied  doggedly.  "  It 
is  just  the  thing  that  a  jealous  woman  would  do." 

"  But  not  the  San  Felice,  I  think." 

Cristina's  eyes  flashed  angrily.  "  I  believe  you  are  in 
love  with  her  yourself !  "  she  said,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  Why 
should  you  suppose  her  to  be  above  writing  an  anonymous 
letter?" 

"  She  is  not  that  kind  of  woman.  Besides,  if  she  is  in  love  with 
Ugo,  her  object  surely  would  be  to  keep  the  fact  from  you. 
Why  should  she  go  out  of  her  way  to  enlighten  you  ?  " 

"  In  order  to  make  my  life  more  detestable  than  it  is  ! " 

Fabrizio  was  silent.  In  Cristina's  reasoning,  the  suspicious- 
ness of  the  peasant — dull  and  ever  ready  to  look  to  the  lowest 
motives — showed  itself  clearly.  It  was  true  that  Fabrizio  Vitali's 
life  had  not  brought  him  into  much  contact  with  the  peasant 
class,  but  he  knew  enough  of  its  characteristics  not  to  labour 
under  any  romantic  or  sentimental  ideas  as  to  their  simplicity, 
the  said  simplicity  being  rarely  to  be  found  except  in  that  purely 
imaginary  type  created  by  foreign  novelists. 

"  You  mean  to  say,"  he  replied,  at  length,  "  that  you  think 
the  San  Felice  capable  of  deliberately  opening  your  eyes  to  the 
existence  of  some — well,  let  us  call  it  understanding,  between 
herself  and  Ugo  in  order  to  make  bad  blood  between  him  and 
you " 

"  For  her  own  benefit,  yes ! "  interrupted  Cristina.  "  Did  I 
not  tell  you  that  she  is  jealous  ?  She  has  allowed  Ugo  to  marry 
me,  but  she  has  no  intention  of  permanently  losing  him  as  a 
lover,  none  at  all !  I  daresay  you  wonder  why  I  confide  such 
matters  to  you." 

"  Yes — why  ?  "  asked  Fabrizio  quickly, 

"Who  else  have  I  to  confide  in?"  exclaimed  Cristina 
abruptly.  "  Besides,"  she  added,  with  a  constrained  laugh, 
"  confidence  is  a  result  of  sympathy,  is  it  not?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Fabrizio ;  "  but " 

"But?" 

"  Confidence  and  sympathy  between  you  and  me  are  dangerous 
things.     I  have  begun  to  realise  the  fact." 


TEMPTATION  99 

Countess  Vitali  gave  him  a  quick  look,  and  a  momentary  gleam 
came  into  her  eyes,  whether  of  satisfaction  or  of  a  certain 
malicious  amusement  Fabrizio  could  not  tellj  but  it  was  not  one 
of  displeasure,  of  that  he  was  sure. 

"Why  do  you  say  that  your  life  is  detestable,  Cristina?  It 
is  a  terrible  thing  to  say.  After  all,  Ugo  cares  for  you,  and  in 
time  you  will  probably  succeed  in  getting  him  out  of  his  groove, 
and  in  making  him  understand  that  he  cannot  keep  you  per- 
petually here  at  Viterbo.  I  know  that  as  yet  he  does  not 
understand.  He  thinks  that  you  are  only  suffering  from  dis- 
appointment." 

"  From  disappointment  !  "  re-echoed  Cristina. 

"Yes,  in  not  having  children." 

Christina  laughed.  "  So,"  she  said,  "  it  seems  that  you  are 
the  confidant  of  both  the  husband  and  the  wife !  It  is  certainly 
a  curious  position.     And  you  believe  Ugo  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Of  course  you  do  not  believe  him !  you  have  too  much 
penetration.  And,  moreover,  you  know  me  better  than  you 
know  him.  As  to  the  matter  of  the  children,  that  is  an  invention 
of  Ugo's — an  excuse.  I  am  thankful  that  I  am  never,  as  I  have 
already  told  you,  likely  to  have  a  child.  But  if  you  think  that 
Ugo  can  be  persuaded  to  leave  his  groove,  as  you  call  it,  it  only 
shows  how  little  you  know  him — as  little  as  I  did  when  I  married 
him  ! " 

"  Then  you  look  upon  your  marriage  as  a  mistake." 

"  As  a  colossal  mistake." 

"  Marriage  usually  is  a  mistake,"  observed  Fabrizio,  "  and,  in  our 
country,  it  is  still  a  mistake  that  cannot  be  remedied,  thanks  to 
our  childish  fear  of  offending  the  priests." 

"  But  you  must  not  think  that  I  complain,"  said  Cristina 
hurriedly ;  "  we  must  all  of  us  take  the  consequences  of  our 
mistakes.  I  suppose  that  in  marrying  me,  Ugo  thought  that  he 
was  marrying  a  good  massaia  who  would  be  content  to  lead  a 
simple  country  life." 

"  And  you,  in  marrying  him,  what  did  you  think  ? "  asked 
Fabrizio,  looking  at  her  curiously. 


100  TEMPTATION 

For  a  moment  or  two  Cristina  did  not  reply.  Then  she  said 
suddenly,  "  Why  should  I  not  tell  you  the  truth  ?  I  knew  that 
Ugo  was  desperately  in  love  with  me — with  my  body,  I  mean,  not 
with  myself!  I  thought  that  I  should  be  able  to  make  him  do 
what  I  wanted,  to  give  me  a  position  in  the  world.  That  was 
my  mistake.  I  should  have  married  a  man  who  understood  me, 
not  a  man  who  merely  gloated  over  my  face  and  my  form  !  Surely 
you,  of  all  people,  can  understand  what  I  mean,  Fabrizio !  I  am 
an  ambitious  woman,  I  do  not  deny  it.  I  would  have  liked  to 
see  my  husband  a  statesman,  a  politician,  anything  that  brought 
him  and  me  into  contact  with  the  great  world.  Instead  of  that, 
I  have  married  a  farmer  who  does  not  know  how  to  turn  the 
advantages  of  possessing  lands  and  a  title  to  any  account,  and 
who  cannot  understand  anybody  having  a  mind  above  horses, 
and  cattle  and  crops  !  " 

"Then  you  married  for  ambition  only;  love  did  not  enter  into 
the  matter,  on  your  side  ?  " 

"That  depends  upon  what  you  mean  by  love,"  answered 
Cristina  slowly.  "Women  are  apt  to  mistake  passion  for  love. 
Men  make  no  mistake  between  the  two,  unless  they  are  very 
young  men.  They  only  pretend  to  do  so.  Afterwards,  it  is  the 
woman  who  remains  destilusionee." 

"  But  Ugo,"  Fabrizio  said  hesitatingly,  "  Ugo  has  something 
more  than  mere — well,  than  mere  passion  for  you,  Cristina.  You 
must  forgive  my  frankness.  You  and  I  can  afford  to  dispense 
with  conventionalities.  No,  I  think  you  misjudge  the  nature  of 
Ugo's  affection  for  you,  or  rather,  you  forget  that  he  is  incapable 
of  a  passion  that  is  intellectual  as  well  as  merely  physical." 

Countess  Vitali  was  certainly  not  an  angler.  Nevertheless, 
seeing  that  her  fish  was  disposed  to  make  a  run,  she  was  quite 
prepared  to  let  him  have  as  much  line  as  might  be  judicious. 

"No,"  she  said  quietly,  "I  do  not  forget  it,  Fabrizio.  It  is 
one  of  my  desillusions,  which  must  be  borne  with  the  rest.  But 
it  is  quite  right  of  you  to  be  loyal  to  Ugo,"  she  added ;  "  and  it  is 
because  I  know  you  are  so  that  I  feel  I  may  talk  openly  to  you — 
as  one  of  the  family,  so  to  speak.  No  doubt  it  is  this  feeling 
which  has  led  me  to  give  you  my  confidence ;  this,  and  realising 


TEMPTATION  101 

that  you  understand  what  we  have  agreed  that  Ugo  could  never 
understand." 

"Are  you  so  sure  that  he  cannot  understand?  He  has,  for 
example,  a  great  admiration  for  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice.  Yet 
nobody  can  accuse  the  San  Felice  of  interesting  herself  only  in 
cattle  and  crops." 

"  And  why  should  it  not  be  due  to  those  other  causes  ?  " 

"  For  the  best  of  reasons.  He  married  you !  Surely  that  is  a 
proof  of  the  physical  type  which  appears  to  his — sense  of  admira- 
tion. The  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  and  the  Contessa  Vitali  are 
as  different  as  the  moon  is  different  from  the  sun.  You  could 
not  both  appeal  to  the  same  man's  passions :  it  is  impossible,  or, 
at  any  rate,  it  is  improbable ;  for  where  a  man's  passions  are  con- 
cerned nothing  is  impossible." 

"Or  a  woman's,"  interposed  Cristina  quickly.  "The  San 
Felice,  your  moon,  is,  like  Diana,  not  always  cold  ! " 

"Are  you  comparing  Ugo  with  Endymion?"  asked  Fabrizio 
laughing.  "  He  is  certainly  more  robust  than  Endymion  is  usually 
represented  as  being,  and  also  rather  older." 

"Si  capisce ! "  said  Countess  Vitali  drily,  "it  is  a  question  of 
temperament.  I  know  nothing  about  Diana's  temperament ; 
perhaps  she  liked  very  young  men." 

Fabrizio  chuckled.  "Where  did  you  learn  your  psychology, 
Cristina,"  he  asked,  "  in  your  convent  ?  " 

"Your  visit  to  Ugo  has  been  a  great  comfort  to  me,"  said 
Countess  Vitali,  a  little  irrelevantly.  "  There  was  nobody  with 
whom  I  could  discuss  these  things.  Except  yourself  I  do  not 
suppose  that  I  have  a  friend  in  the  world.  It  is  a  pity  that  you 
and  Ugo  are  so  different." 

"Would  you  prefer  that  I  should  be  like  him?"  Fabrizio 
rose  from  his  chair  as  he  spoke  and  stood  beside  Cristina's 
sofa. 

"No,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice,  "no,  I  should  prefer  the 
reverse." 

Their  eyes  met,  and  both  remained  silent  for  a  space. 

Suddenly  Cristina  laughed.  "Let  us  be  children,"  she  said, 
"  and  play  at  pretending.     Did  you  never  play  at  pretending  when 


102  TEMPTATION 

you  were  a  child,  Fabrizio  ?  We  will  pretend  that  Ugo  is  dead — 
that  Ugo  never  existed,  but  that  you  are  he.  Yes,  you  are  Count 
Vitali,  and  you  have  money,  and  lands  ;  and — and  a  wife  who  is 
not  ugly,  via !  Do  you  shut  yourself  up  in  this  dilapidated  old 
palace,  and  let  the  world  pass  by  you?  I  think  not.  You  use 
your  money  and  your  position  to  moke  a  name  for  yourself,  in 
politics,  in  literature — anything  !  And  your  wife  helps  you.  A 
wife  who  is  ambitious — and  who  is  not  ugly — is  a  useful  com- 
panion in  life " 

"  If  she  loves  her  husband,"  interrupted  Fabrizio. 

Countess  Vitali  clapped  her  hands.  "  Bravo,  Fabrizio ! " 
she  exclaimed,  "  I  see  you  can  play  the  game.  Sicuro !  if  she 
loves  her  husband.  But  of  course,  in  your  case,  we  must  assume 
that  you  married  for  love,  and  not  for  the  other  reasons  only, 
and  that  the  woman  you  married  was  not  taken  by  you  as  faufe 
de  mietix !  Now  it  is  your  turn  to  pretend.  What  would  you 
do  with  your  life  under  such  conditions?  Would  you  do  as 
Ugo  does  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  see  that  it  is  of  any  use  to  pretend,"  said  Fabrizio, 
almost  sullenly. 

"  What  would  you  do  ? "  insisted  Cristina,  looking  up  at  him 
from  her  sofa. 

'*  I  should  live,  and  not  vegetate  as  Ugo  does !  But  I  do  not 
like  your  game,  Cristina,  it  gives  me " 

"What?" 

"Thoughts  I  would  rather  keep  out  of  my  mind.  Why  do 
you  so  often  make  me  think  what  I  would  do  if  I  were  in  Ugo's 
place?  Ugo  is  a  much  stronger  man  than  I  am.  He  will 
probably  outlive  me  by  many  years.  It  is  absurd,  your  game, 
since  we  are  not  children !  Moreover,  I  hate  the  subject.  It 
makes  me  feel  as  though  I  wished  some  harm  to  befall  Ugo, 
when  I  know  that  I  wish  nothing  of  the  kind.  But  you  do  not 
wish  him  well,  Cristina.  Sometimes  I  think  that  you  hate 
him  ! " 

Countess  Vitali  glanced  at  him  quickly,  and  there  was  an 
angry  gleam  in  her  eyes,  which  disappeared,  however,  as  rapidly 
as  it  came.     "My  dear  cousin,"  she  said,  with  a  slight  laugh, 


TEMPTATION  103 

"  it  is  you  who  are  absurd,  not  my  innocent  little  game !  Why 
should  you  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  I  hate  my  husband 
simply  because  I  have  confided  to  you  that  he  made  a  mistake 
when  he  married  me?  Do  you  not  say  yourself  that  most 
marriages  turn  out  to  have  been  a  mistake  for  one  or  the  other 
of  the  people  concerned  ?  But  between  realising  that  one  has 
been  mistaken  in  a  person's  character  and  hating  that  person,  there 
is,  surely,  a  wide  difference.  As  to  making  you  feel  that  you 
wish  harm  to  Ugo,  we  have  discussed  that  point  before.  Of 
course  I  know  that  you  do  nothing  of  the  sort !  Evidently, 
Fabrizio,  you  do  not  understand  me  as  I  believed  you  to  do; 
you  do  not  reaUse  that  I  have  no  one  else  to  confide  in  except 
yourself." 

"  Forgive  me,  I  had  no  reason  to  say  what  I  said,"  exclaimed 
Fabrizio  penitently.  "You  are  quite  right.  It  is  I  who  am 
absurd." 

"  After  all,"  continued  Cristina,  apparently  without  noticing 
his  apology,  "one  never  knows  what  may  happen.  Have  you 
ever  realised  what  a  misfortune  it  would  be  for  you  if  I  were  to 
die?  Ugo  would  certainly  marry  again.  Very  likely  he  would 
marry  the  San  Felice  and  have  children.  She  is  not  too  old  to 
have  more  children,  you  know.  You  ought  to  say  your  prayers 
that  I  may  outlive  Ugo." 

"Cristina!"  exclaimed  Fabrizio,  "per  carita !  Have  I  not 
told  you  that  I  do  not  wish  to  think  of  certain  things  ?  Let  us 
talk  of  something  else.  Do  you  know  that  I  have  been  here 
more  than  a  month?  It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  quite  time  I 
returned  to  Rome." 

"  It  is  incredible  that  you  should  have  been  able  to  endure 
our  life  here  for  so  long ! "  observed  Countess  Vitali  drily. 
"You  had  better  confess  it,"  she  added,  "you  are  becoming 
horribly  bored  ! " 

"  It  would  have  been  easy  to  go  away  before,  if  that  was  the 
case,"  Fabrizio  replied. 

"  Then  why  do  you  want  to  go  away  now  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  want  to  go  ! " 

Cristina  gave  a  slight  shrug  of  her  shoulders.      "If  you  do 


104  TEMPTATION 

not  want  to  go,"  she  returned,  "why  do  you  not  stay?  Are  you 
afraid  of  outstaying  your  welcome  ?     You  will  not  do  that." 

"  It  would  be  wiser  of  me  to  go  away." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  inquiringly  for  a  moment.  Then  the 
expression  of  her  face  suddenly  changed  to  one  of  suspicion. 
"  The  San  Fehce  has  been  trying  to  make  mischief  between  you 
and  me,"  she  said  contemptuously.  "  Why  do  you  believe  what 
she  says  ?  I  know  that  she  talked  to  you  about  me  yesterday." 

Fabrizio  looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  "  I  assure  you  that 
she  never  mentioned  your  name,  Cristina,"  he  replied.  "We 
talked  of — well,  of  things  and  not  of  people." 

Cristina  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "And  so  you  mean  to  go 
away,"  she  said  presently.  "You  will  go  back  to  Rome  and 
forget  all  about  us  !     I  am  sorry." 

"You  are  sorry?"  repeated  Fabrizio,  and  then  he  paused. 
"  I  am  not  likely  to  forget  all  about  you  ! "  he  continued  slowly, 
"  I  think  you  know  that,  without  my  saying  it !  that  is  the 
reason  why,  as  I  said  just  now,  it  is  wiser  for  me  to  go,  before 
it  is  too  late." 

"  It  need  never  be  too  late  ! "  answered  Countess  Vitali  softly ; 
"and  you  are  too  scrupulous,  amico  mio,  much  too  scrupulous. 
Of  course  you  cannot  stay  here  indefinitely  ;  no  doubt  there  are 
many  at  Viterbo  who  think  that  you  have  been  here  long  enough 
as  it  is.  But  there  is  nothing  like  accustoming  people  to  an 
idea,  and  very  soon  your  presence  here  would  come  to  be 
regarded  as  perfectly  natural.  After  all,  Rome  is  so  near;  and 
what  could  be  more  natural  than  that  you  should  often  come  to 
Palazzo  Vitali  ?  " 

Fabrizio  was  silent.  His  instinct  warned  him  that  Cristina 
was  leading  him  on  to  dangerous  ground,  and  that  she  was 
doing  so,  moreover,  with  a  deliberation  of  purpose  that  she 
apparently  scarcely  troubled  herself  to  conceal.  This  last  thought 
was  gratifying  to  his  vanity ;  and  it  was  also  stimulating  to  those 
feelings  which  he  could  no  longer  pretend  to  himself  that  his 
cousin's  wife  had  not  aroused  in  him. 

Cristina  Vitali  sat  silently  watching  him  from  beneath  her  heavy 
eye-lashes.     "  I  am  afraid — "  Fabrizio  said  at  length  hesitatingly. 


TEMPTATION  105 

"Of  what?  of  me?" 

"  Of  you,  yes,  and  of  myself.  It  would  have  been  better  not 
to  take  me  into  your  confidence,  Cristina  !  " 

"  Perhaps.  I  am  only  a  woman.  Men  are  more  cautious 
than  women,  more  careful  to  consider  their  own  interests.  You 
are  afraid  of  compromising  yourself,  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  You  are  unjust !  Have  I  not  told  you  that  I  do  not  wish 
any  harm  to  happen  to  Ugo  ?  and  certainly  I  do  not  wish  harm 
to  come  to  him  through  me.  That  is  not  fear  of  compromis- 
ing myself." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Fabrizio  ?  "  asked  Cristina  hastily.  "  I 
do  not  understand.  What  harm  could  Ugo  suffer  from  our 
friendship  ?  No  doubt  people  would  gossip,  they  always  do ! 
but  Ugo  is  the  last  person  to  have  any  right  to  resent  our  friend- 
ship.    Has  he  not  the  San  Felice  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  a  parallel  case,"  said  Fabrizio  quickly.  "  You  are 
not  the  sort  of  woman  to  inspire  a  platonic  friendship.  That  is 
why  I  am  afraid  of  you,  and  of  myself !  " 

The  room  in  which  they  were  sitting  was  already  darkened,  for 
the  sake  of  coolness,  by  the  closed  shutters  outside  the  windows, 
but  during  the  last  few  minutes  the  light  had  gradually  faded  into 
a  semi-obscurity.  Cristina  rose  from  her  sofa  and,  going  to  one 
of  the  windows,  threw  open  the  persiennes.  The  sun  was  hidden 
behind  a  mass  of  inky-black  clouds  rolling  slowly  up  from  the 
southward,  and  not  a  breath  of  air  stirred  the  tops  of  the  cypress 
trees  in  the  gardens  beneath  the  house.  All  Nature  seemed  to 
be  lying  under  the  spell  of  a  hushed  expectancy ;  for  even  the 
cicale  had  ceased  their  metallic  rattle,  and  deep  silence  reigned 
everywhere. 

"The  air  is  suffocating,"  exclaimed  Cristina,  "  we  are  going  to 
have  a  terrible  storm  !  You  say  that  you  are  afraid,  Fabrizio — I 
do  not  mean  of  the  storm,  but  of  yourself  and  of  me  ?  But  you 
are  only  afraid  because  I  happen  to  be  Ugo's  wife.  Why  do  you 
not  confess  it  ?  " 

Fabrizio  looked  at  her  earnestly.  "  That  is  true,"  he  replied, 
"you  are  Ugo's  wife.     Otherwise — "  and  his  eyes  said  the  rest. 

Cristina  smiled  a  little  satirically,  but  she  made  no  remark 


106  TEMPTATION 

"  You  seem  to  be  amused  ! "  Fabrizio  continued,  and  there  was 
an  offended  tone  in  his  voice.  "  But  you  do  not  understand. 
You  imagine  that  I  am  afraid  of  making  an  enemy  of  Ugo, 
lest  I  should  injure  my  own  prospects  in  the  future.  It  is  not 
that ;  but,  I  should  feel  ashamed  of  myself  for  deceiving  Ugo. 
He  has  implicit  confidence  in  us  both,  because  I  bear  the  same 
name,  can  you  not  understand  ?  I  see  nothing  to  amuse  you  in 
the  fact  that  I  do  not  want  to  betray  that  confidence  ! " 

"I  am  amused  at  the  difference  between  your  theories  and 
your  practice,"  replied  Countess  Vitali.  "  Notwithstanding  your 
theories  as  to  the  immorality  of  marriage  in  the  present  state  of 
human  society,  you  are  more  scrupulous  than  many  people  who 
are  by  way  of  being  devout  Catholics  !  I  believe  that  you  would 
make  a  model  husband  ! " 

Cristina  laughed  as  she  uttered  this  last  sentiment,  but  her 
laugh  was  accompanied  by  a  swift  look  at  her  companion. 

"  I  believe  I  should  be  a  very  jealous  husband,  if  I  were 
married  to  you,"  returned  Fabrizio,  laughing  also.  He  was  not 
sorry  that  Cristina  seemed  to  be  disposed  to  give  a  less  serious 
tone  to  the  conversation ;  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  upbraided 
himself  for  his  timidity.  His  ideal  of  woman  was  not  a  high 
ideal.  Foreigners  from  the  north  are  apt  to  marvel  at  the 
restrictions  by  which  Italian  women  are  surrounded,  and  to  laugh 
at  the  precautions  taken  to  guard  unmarried  girls,  and  even 
middle-aged  spinsters  from  possible  contamination  on  the  part  of 
the  opposite  sex ;  while  Italian  husbands,  from  "  il  Moro "  of 
Venice  downwards,  have  always  been  bye-words  for  jealousy. 
Fabrizio  Vitali,  however,  was  not  of  the  north  ;  and  hitherto  his 
creed  concerning  women,  married  or  single,  provided  that  they 
were  attractive,  was  limited  to  a  careless  determination  to  obtain 
from  them  all  the  satisfaction  they  might  be  induced  to  afford  him. 
Had  any  one  told  Fabrizio  that  he  would  have  hesitated  to  take 
advantage  of  a  favourable  opportunity  of  making  love  to  a 
beautiful  woman  merely  because  she  happened  to  have  a 
husband,  he  would  probably  have  considered  himself  to  be 
insulted  by  the  suggestion.  He  was  unable,  therefoie,  to  explain 
satisfactorily  even  to  himself  his  present  hesitation.     He  could 


TEMPTATION  107 

scarcely  doubt,  after  the  language  something  more  than  suggestive 
which  Cristina  had  allowed  herself  to  use,  that  any  advances  he 
might  make  would  not  be  rebuffed ;  nevertheless,  he  was 
conscious  of  a  vague  sense  of  some  peril  he  could  not  define. 

"  Do  you  think  I  should  give  you  cause  to  be  jealous,  if  you 
were  married  to  me  ?  "  asked  Cristina. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  that  is  more  to  the  point ! "  replied 
Fabrizio. 

"No,"  said  Countess  Vitali  slowly.  "But  what  is  the  use  of 
discussing  the  subject  ?  "  she  added.  "  As  I  have  already  told 
you,  I  have  long  realised  that  our  marriage,  Ugo's  and  mine,  was 
a  mistake.  I  am  quite  frank  with  you  on  that  matter.  He 
married  me  because  he  could  not  marry  the  San  Felice,  and  I 
married  him  because — because  I  thought  he  could  give  me  the 
hfe  I  wanted.  To  Ugo,  the  mistake  does  not  matter  so  much, 
he  has  his  friend  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice." 

"You  do  not  believe  that  there  is  anything  more  than 
friendship  between  them  !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "  You  have 
said  so  yourself  to  me  more  than  once." 

"  Chi  lo  sa  ?  "  returned  Cristina  abruptly.  "  But  even  if  the 
friendship  be  merely  platonic,  it  is  better  than  nothing — no  ?  " 

"I  am  not  sure,"  Fabrizio  said.  "  Under  certain  circumstances 
I  should  prefer  nothing  !  As  I  told  you  just  now,  you  are  not  the 
Duchessa  di  San  Felice,  and " 

A  vivid  flash  of  lightning,  instantly  followed  by  one  of  those 
sharp  crashes  of  thunder  denoting  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
storm,  interrupted  him.  The  centre  of  the  mass  of  black  thunder- 
cloud had  changed  in  colour  to  a  deep,  angry  purple ;  and  a 
sound,  which  was  not  that  of  wind,  gradually  increased  from  a 
distant  murmur  to  a  hissing,  crackling  roar.  The  tops  of  the 
cypress  trees  swayed  gently  as  a  breath  of  icy-cold  air  reached 
them,  and  then  the  purple  pall  lowering  above  them  seemed 
suddenly  to  dissolve  itself  into  a  white  mist  as  a  storm  of 
hailstones,  some  round  and  large  as  pigeons'  eggs,  and  others 
jagged  pieces  of  ice,  swept  over  the  gardens  and  rattled  against 
the  front  of  the  house  with  a  noise  like  a  discharge  of  musketry. 

Countess  Vitali,  who  had  retreated    from   the   open  window, 


108  TEMPTATION 

momentarily  startled  by  the  flash  of  lightning,  rushed  to  it  again 
and  leaning  out  endeavoured  to  close  the  persiennes.  "The 
hail !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  There  will  not  be  a  pane  of  glass  left, 
Fabrizio  !  "  The  shutters  however  were  refractory,  and  Cristina 
was  unable  to  detach  them  from  the  iron  catches.  A  second 
flash,  blue,  and  accompanied  by  a  sound  like  the  crack  of  a  whip, 
seemed  to  encircle  her  in  a  blaze  of  light,  and  she  started  back 
from  the  window  with  a  little  cry  of  pain. 

"Cristina  ! "  Fabrizio  shouted,  "for  God's  sake  come  away,  the 
lightning  is  too  near !  I  will  close  the  persiennes.  Good 
heavens  !  "  he  added,  "  what  is  the  matter  ?  did  the  lightning 
touch  you  ?  "  and  he  sprang  to  her  side. 

Cristina  smiled,  though  the  colour  had  left  her  face  and  she 
was  very  pale.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  not  the  lightning,  but  the  hail. 
Look  !  "  and  she  held  her  arm  out  towards  him.  A  trickle  of 
blood  came  from  a  cut  on  her  wrist  where  a  hailstone  had  struck 
it,  and  the  blood  showed  red  against  her  white  skin. 

Fabrizio  took  her  hand  and  tried  to  stop  the  bleeding  with  his 
handkerchief,  but  the  cut  was  deep  and  the  blood  began  to  flow 
more  freely,  obliging  him  to  turn  back  the  sleeve  of  her  light 
muslin  dress.  Suddenly  he  raised  her  arm  to  his  lips  and 
kissed  it. 

"  For  an  instant  I  thought  you  had  been  struck  ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  It  was  horrible — you  were  surrounded  by  flame  ! " 

"It  is  nothing,  a  scratch,"  Cristina  said  softly,  "but  if  it  had 
been  the  lightning,  if  I  had  been  killed,  would  you  have  cared, 
Fabrizio  ?  " 

For  all  answer  Fabrizio  kissed  her  arm  again,  heedless  of  the 
blood  that  stained  his  lips ;  and  then,  his  passion  mastering  him 
completely,  he  kissed  her  face  with  rapid,  eager  kisses.  Cristina 
suffered  him  to  do  so  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  drew  herself  away 
from  his  embrace.  It  was  as  well  that  she  did  so,  for  immedi- 
ately afterwards  the  door  opened  and  Taddeo  entered  the  room 
hastily. 

"  The  scuri  I  "  he  exclaimed,  "  they  are  open,  signora  contessa, 
and  the  hail  will  break  everything !  "  and  rushing  to  the  window 
he   closed   them.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  hail   had  already 


TEMPTATION  109 

done  its  work,  and  most  of  the  panes  of  glass  were  shattered, 
though  neither  Countess  VitaH  nor  Fabrizio  was  aware  of  it. 

"We  tried  to  shut  them,  but  could  not,"  said  Cristina.  "The 
hail  has  cut  my  hands,"  and  she  pointed  to  her  wrist  around  which 
Fabrizio  had  bound  his  handkerchief. 

Taddeo  looked  at  it,  and  then  he  looked  at  Fabrizio.  "  The 
signore,  also,  is  wounded,"  he  observed. 

Fabrizio  hastily  passed  the  sleeve  of  his  coat  across  his  mouth. 
"I?"  he  replied  quickly,  "no." 

"The  signore  was  helping  me,"  interrupted  Countess  Vitah, 
giving  him  a  rapid  glance.  "  I  will  go  to  my  room,"  she  continued, 
"  and  have  the  cut  properly  dressed.  This  hail,  Taddeo,  it  will 
do  much  damage." 

"  It  is  a  rovina,  everything  will  be  burned  black  as  if  the  devil 
had  touched  it !  And  the  poor  signor  conte,  he  will  be  in  despair 
when  he  returns  this  evening — mah  1 "  and  Taddeo  lifted  his  hands 
expressively. 

"It  is  very  unfortunate,"  remarked  Countess  Vitali,  a  little 
absently.  "  Sicuro,  Taddeo,  the  signor  conte  will  be  very  much 
annoyed,"  and  so  saying  she  went  quickly  from  the  room,  after 
adding  that  if  Fabrizio  needed  taffetana  to  place  on  his  cut,  she 
could  supply  him  with  some. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  FTER  Cristina  had  left  him,  Fabrizio  Vitali  walked  up  and 
-^~^  down  the  billiard-room  wrestling  with  his  thoughts  and  try- 
ing to  force  them  into  something  like  coherence.  Taddeo  had 
Closed  all  the  outer  shutters  of  the  windows,  and,  save  for  various 
expletives  muttered  to  himself,  had  completed  the  process  in 
silence  and  quickly  left  the  room.  The  semi-obscurity  was 
illumined  by  frequent  flashes  of  lightning,  and  the  rattle  of  the 
hailstones  was  gradually  succeeded  by  a  more  muffled  sound,  as 
the  rain  began  to  descend  with  almost  tropical  violence.  A 
heavy,  damp  air  came  through  the  closed  persiennes^  bringing 
with  it  a  sulphurous  odour  ascending  from  the  steaming  soil  of 
the  gardens  below.  Fabrizio,  restlessly  pacing  to  and  fro,  felt 
almost  as  if  the  lightning  had  struck  him  some  sudden  blow.  He 
was  vaguely  conscious  that  Taddeo  was  in  the  room  fumbling 
with  the  rusty  iron  catches  of  the  shutters,  and  he  was  scarcely 
aware  of  the  fact  when,  having  completed  his  task,  the  old  man 
retired  leaving  him  alone.  A  feeling  that  something  had  befallen 
him — something  entirely  unexpected — seemed  to  have  taken 
possession  of  him ;  and  mingling  with  this  feeling  was  an  impres- 
sion of  evil,  almost  of  personal  danger,  indefinable  and  yet  per- 
sistent. Suddenly  Fabrizio  paused  in  his  restless  walk  and  looked 
quickly  behind  him.  "Did  you  laugh,  Taddeo? "  he  asked  sharply  \ 
and,  receiving  no  answer,  he  realized  for  the  first  time  that  Taddeo 
was  no  longer  in  the  room.  The  sound  of  his  own  voice  seemed 
to  help  him  to  concentrate  his  thoughts.  He  could  have  sworn 
that  someone  had  laughed,  a  low,  scornful  laugh.  It  was  fancy,  of 
course,  the  storm  had  excited  his  nerves.  All  the  same,  if  he 
heard  that  laugh  again,  he  should  certainly  mention  it  to  his  doctor 
when  he  returned  to  Rome ;  for  it  was  a  particularly  disagreeable 
form  for  nerves  to  take,  and  produced  an  unpleasant  impression 
upon  him  that  he  was  at  a  loss  to  describe  even  to  himself. 


TEMPTATION  111 

When  he  returned  to  Rome  ?  Unquestionably  his  only  course 
was  to  return  to  Rome  without  delay — to  leave  Palazzo  Vitali 
before  he  should  have  time  to  be  drawn  into  some  further  folly. 
The  position  was  altogether  too  dangerous — he  realised  now  how 
dangerous.  He  had  told  himself  over  and  over  again  of  late  that 
whoever  Cristina's  eventual  lover  might  be,  that  lover  must 
certainly  not  be  himself.  He  would  be  bringing  dishonour  on  his 
own  name — and  it  would  be  an  act  of  treachery  towards  Ugo, 
who  had  gone  out  of  his  way  to  treat  him  with  a  confidence  that 
he  might  have  shown  towards  a  brother.  And  apart  from  honour, 
and  loyalty  to  his  own  kin  and  the  head  of  his  house,  he  would 
be  acting  against  his  own  interests,  destroying  future  possibilities 
for  the  sake  of  gratifying  a  passion  for  a  woman  in  whom  he  was 
conscious  of  finding  something  repellent  even  though  she  attracted 
him  as  no  woman  had  ever  attracted  him  before.  Confident  of 
possessing  that  strength  of  personal  will  which  Schopenhauer  had 
taught  him  was  the  predominant  factor  in  the  life  of  every 
reasonable  man,  Fabrizio  had  played  with  his  passion  from  day 
to  day  during  the  past  weeks,  secure  in  his  conviction  that  he 
could  always  prevent  it  from  compromising  his  interests,  and  still 
more  so  from  gaining  a  mastery  over  him.  It  was  this  confidence 
which  now  lay,  as  it  were,  at  his  feet,  shattered  and  ruined  in  a 
moment's  irresistible  impulse.  His  philosophy  had  not  gone  far 
enough  to  teach  him  that  no  such  thing  exists  as  an  act  committed 
on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  but  that  all  human  acts  are  but 
links  in  the  long  chain  of  psychical  phenomena  which  some  call 
character — links  which,  did  we  but  realise  it,  we  have  the  privilege 
of  fashioning,  to  be  our  support  or  our  undoing  for  years  yet  far  in 
front  of  us.  To  Fabrizio,  the  unexpected  had  happened  that 
afternoon,  and  he  felt  as  one  might  feel  beneath  whose  feet  the 
ground  had  suddenly  crumbled. 

Half  an  hour  or  so  passed,  and  the  storm  rumbled  away  into 
the  distance.  The  darkened  room  grew  lighter  and  the  air 
fresher,  while  the  noise  of  the  falling  rain  had  entirely  ceased. 

Fabrizio  went  to  the  windows,  and  after  throwing  open  the 
persiennes,  looked  out  into  the  gardens.  A  scene  of  devastation 
met  his  eyes.     In  spots  more  or  less  sheltered  from  the  sub- 


112  TEMPTATION 

sequent  heavy  rain,  masses  of  hailstones  lay  white  upon  the 
ground,  some  round,  some  jagged  wedges  of  ice.  Boughs  of 
roses  and  flowering  shrubs  were  scattered  about  in  all  directions, 
some  of  which  looked  as  though  they  had  been  cut  off  with  a 
knife,  while  others  hung  in  mutilated  shreds  to  the  parent  plants. 
The  orange-blossoms,  which  an  hour  or  two  before  had  filled  the 
air  with  their  scent,  were  now  black  and  shrivelled ;  and  on  the 
terrace  beneath  the  house  lay  bruised  corpses  of  birds  caught  by 
the  hailstones  and  beaten  to  death.  Full  as  his  mind  was  of  far 
other  things,  Fabrizio  found  himself  wondering  what  must  have 
been  the  damage  to  the  vineyards  and  the  crops  on  the  Vitah 
lands  from  the  storm  that  had  swept  down  so  suddenly  from  the 
Sabine  mountains  and  rolled  across  the  campagna  to  the  sea. 
Already  the  sky  was  clearing,  and  in  another  half-hour  the  sun 
would  be  shining  as  brilliantly  as  before.  Within  the  house 
all  was  quiet.  Fabrizio  left  the  billiard-room  and  walked 
through  the  other  reception  rooms  on  the  piano  nobile.  He 
wondered  if  Cristina  would  appear  again.  As  a  rule,  they  had 
spent  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon  on  the  terrace  until  it  was 
cool  enough  to  drive  or  walk  in  some  of  the  sheltered  lanes  leading 
from  the  ridge  crowned  by  the  walls  and  gates  of  Viteibo  to  the 
plain  below.  What,  he  asked  himself,  would  be  Cristina's 
attitude  towards  him  after  his  outbreak  of  passion.  The  first 
feeling  of  self-reproach  and  self-contempt  for  having  yielded  to 
what  he  believed  to  be  a  sudden  impulse  was  quickly  becoming 
less  intense,  while  the  uncomfortable  presentiment  of  some 
threatening  evil  had  already  faded  from  his  mind.  A  second 
phase,  the  inevitable  phase  of  self-excuse  had  set  in,  and  was  fast 
smoothing  over  the  rougher  edges  of  self-condemnation.  After 
all,  what  he  had  done  was  a  sciocchezza — a  trifle  which  it  was 
absurd  to  think  about  seriously.  Moreover,  Cristina  had  certainly 
led  him  on ;  and  she  could  not,  therefore,  pretend  to  resent  his 
action  as  an  unwarrantable  offence,  or  as  an  abuse  of  his  position 
as  a  relative  and  a  guest.  Yes,  she  had  certainly  led  him  on  !  her 
look  when  she  asked  him  whether  he  would  really  have  cared  had 
the  lightning  struck  her — her  gesture  as  she  raised  her  wounded 
arm  so  as  almost  to  brush  his  lips — what  man  could  be  expected 


TEMPTATION  113 

to  keep  his  head  when  tempted  to  lose  it  by  such  a  woman  ? 
Assuredly  he,  Fabrizio,  was  a  fool  to  allow  himself  to  be  troubled 
by  scruples  when  such  a  piece  of  boime  fortune,  as  the  French 
would  say,  was  thrown  in  his  way  !  What  other  man  of  his 
acquaintance  would  hesitate  to  take  advantage  of  the  fact  that  a 
beautiful  woman  found  his  society  preferable  to  that  of  her 
husband  ?  And  Ugo  ?  well,  Ugo  need  never  be  any  the  wiser — 
it  would  be  easy  to  avoid  rousing  any  suspicion  in  the  mind  of 
one  so  unsuspicious  by  nature  as  Ugo  had  already  shown  himself 
to  be. 

Would  it  not  be  time  enough  to  return  to  Rome — afterwards  ? 
The  whole  affair  might  be  nothing  more  than  an  episode — an 
adventure  such  as  many  men  could  count  by  the  dozen  in  their 
lives.  It  was  absurd  to  regard  it  as  likely  to  produce  disagreeable 
complications. 

A  slight  sound — perhaps  the  creaking  of  a  piece  of  furniture 
caused  by  the  sudden  dampness  in  the  air  after  the  dry  heat  of 
the  last  few  days — caused  Fabrizio  to  look  up.  In  the  course  of 
his  meditations  he  had  wandered  through  the  long  suite  of  the 
cardinal's  reception  rooms  and  found  himself  in  the  gallery 
immediately  beneath  Donna  Giulia's  portrait.  A  ray  of  sunlight 
filtering  through  the  persiennes  fell  upon  the  picture,  and  the 
heavy  eyes  seemed  to  Fabrizio  to  be  following  him  with  a 
malicious  smile.  He  turned  away  from  it  abruptly,  almost 
expecting  again  to  hear  the  low,  scornful  laugh  he  had  heard  in 
his  dreams,  and  which  had  since  repeated  itself  in  his  fancy.  No 
further  sound,  however,  real  or  imaginary,  broke  the  silence  of 
the  empty  rooms ;  and  Fabrizio,  turning  his  back  on  the  portrait 
of  his  ancestress,  left  the  gallery  and  descended  the  staircase 
leading  down  to  the  courtyard.  The  terrace  would  be  in  shade 
now,  and  he  thought  he  would  sit  there  in  case  Cristina  should 
reappear.  But  Countess  Vitali  did  not  reappear;  neither  did 
Fabrizio  see  or  hear  anything  of  her  until  just  before  dinner  that 
evening,  when  she  came  into  the  drawing-room  where  her 
husband  and  Fabrizio  were  awaiting  her  a  moment  or  two  before 
that  meal  was  announced. 


CHAPTER  XII 

n^HE  damage  done  on  the  Vitali  property  by  the  storm  had  not 
■■■  been  so  serious  as  might  have  been  expected.  By  one  of 
those  strange  caprices  of  Nature  so  frequent  in  summer  storms  in 
Italy,  the  hail  had  been  confined  to  a  track  of  only  two  or  three 
hundred  metres  in  width.  Within  this  track  vines  and  fruit  trees 
had  been  stripped  bare,  or  at  the  best  left  burned  and  shrivelled, 
while  corn  and  maize  had  been  beaten  down  in  hopeless  ruin. 
The  storm  had  burst  so  suddenly  that  the  peasants  had  had  no 
time  to  use  the  great  funnels  from  which  heavy  charges  of  gun- 
powder are  exploded,  the  concussions  of  which  break  up  and  dis- 
pel the  gathering  masses  of  purple-black  clouds  which  herald  an 
onslaught  of  the  dreaded  scourge.  On  either  side  of  this  narrow 
track,  however,  little  damage  had  been  done,  and,  indeed,  some 
good,  since  the  heavy  rain  had  washed  away  the  insects  from  the 
crops  and  refreshed  the  parched  soil. 

On  Cristina's  entry  into  the  drawing-room  Fabrizio  cast  an  en- 
quiring glance  at  her.  Her  manner  was  the  same  as  usual,  and 
she  apologised  to  him  for  having  left  him  to  his  own  devices  for 
the  whole  of  the  afternoon.  Taddeo  threw  open  the  doors  of  the 
dining-room  a  moment  after  her  appearance,  and  taking  Fabrizio's 
arm  they  went  in  together,  followed  by  Ugo.  The  conversation 
naturally  turned  on  the  storm  of  that  afternoon. 

"  Imagine,  Ugo,"  said  Countess  Vitali,  "  I  was  closing  the 
persiennes  in  the  billiard-room  when  a  flash  of  lightning  came, 
and  at  the  same  moment  I  felt  a  pain  in  my  arm  and  thought 
I  was  struck.  Fabrizio  thought  so  too,  did  you  not, 
Fabrizio  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  did  ! "  assented  Fabrizio.  "  You  were  very  white, 
and  I  saw  blood  trickling  down  your  arm.  It  never  occurred  to 
me  that  it  was  caused  by  a  hailstone  cutting  you." 

"  People  who  are  struck  by  lightning  do  not  bleed,"  observed 


TEMPTATION  115 

Ugo.  "  Was  it  a  bad  cut,  Cristina  ?  ah,  I  see  you  have  a  bandage 
round  your  arm." 

"  It  was  a  deep  cut,  and  bled  a  good  deal,"  replied  Cristina. 
"Fabrizio  was  wounded  also — he  was  helping  me  to  close  the 
shutters,  as  the  window  panes  were  being  broken  by  the  hail. 
But  yours  was  a  mere  scratch  on  your  face,  was  it  not  ? "  she 
added  to  Fabrizio. 

"  A  mere  scratch,"  repeated  Fabrizio  quickly. 

"  It  has  not  even  left  a  mark,"  continued  Cristina,  looking 
at  him  steadily,  *'  whereas  I  shall  probably  have  a  scar  on 
my  arm  for  days.  Luckily  Taddeo  came  in  and  closed  the 
remainder  of  the  persiennes^  or  I  believe  every  window  would 
have  been  broken.  You  really  should  have  the  fastenings  re- 
newed, Ugo,  they  are  so  old  that  they  are  useless.  I  should 
think  they  had  never  been  changed  since  the  cardinal's 
days." 

Fabrizio,  happening  to  glance  at  Taddeo,  saw  that  the  man  was 
listening  attentively.  "  My  cut  scarcely  bled  at  all,"  he  said. 
"The  hailstone  can  only  have  grazed  the  skin  of  my  face,  for 
when  I  looked  in  the  glass  I  could  not  see  any  trace  of  a 
cut." 

"  But  you  certainly  had  some  blood  on  your  face,"  insisted 
Cristina ;  "  I  saw  it,  and  so  did  Taddeo,  if  you  remember.  Has 
the  storm  done  much  damage,  Ugo  ?  " 

"  I  believe  not,"  replied  Count  Vitali.  "  I  only  returned  half  an 
hour  ago,  and  have  not  had  time  to  examine  things  for  myself ; 
but  they  tell  me  that  the  hail  was  restricted  to  a  very  narrow  area, 
so  most  of  the  land  will  have  escaped." 

The  conversation  during  dinner  that  evening  was,  to  say  the 
least  of  it,  intermittent.  Ugo  Vitali,  who  had  had  a  very  long 
day,  confessed  to  feeling  tired,  and  Cristina  declared  that  the 
thunder  had  given  her  a  headache. 

"  It  seems  that  the  heat  in  Rome  is  terrible — thirty-eight 
degrees,"  Ugo  observed,  during  a  prolonged  pause  which  no  one 
seemed  inclined  to  break.  "  I  am  afraid  that  means  more  hail- 
storms, and  I  am  by  no  means  fully  insured  against  hail,"  he 
added. 


116  TEMPTATION 

"  I  certainly  do  not  look  forward  to  returning  to  Rome,  if  the 
thermometer  stands  at  thirty-eight,"  Fabrizio  remarked. 

Ugo  looked  up  from  his  plate.  "  Why  should  you  return  to 
Rome  ? "  he  asked.  "  Nobody  but  a  lunatic  would  leave  the 
country  in  order  to  grill  in  a  town  at  this  time  of  year.  It  has 
been  hot  enough  here,  certainly;  but  at  least  we  have  fresh  air  and 
cool  nights,  compared  with  what  you  would  find  in  Rome  just 
now.  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you  are  really  thinking  of 
leaving  us,  Fabrizio  ?  " 

Fabrizio  nodded.  "  Seriously,"  he  replied,  with  a  smile.  "  I 
have  paid  you  a  very  long  visit — and  there  are  also  other  reasons 
why  I  think  I  should  be  in  Rome." 

He  looked  at  Cristina  as  he  spoke,  but  she  appeared  to  be 
engrossed  with  her  dinner. 

"  Oh  well,  if  you  have  other  reasons,  I  have  no  more  to  say," 
returned  Ugo ;  "  but,"  he  added  cordially,  "  if  you  are  only  going 
to  Rome  because  you  think  you  have  been  here  long  enough,  I  do 
not  think  your  reason  at  all  a  good  one.  What  do  you  say, 
Cristina?" 

"I  should  say  that  Fabrizio  is  perfectly  right,"  remarked 
Countess  Vitali  tranquilly.  "  He  is  probably  bored  with  life  at 
Palazzo  Vitali,  and  not  unnaturally  wishes  to  find  himself  in  a 
more  amusing  place.  Indeed,  I  wonder  that  he  has  been  able 
to  remain  with  us  so  long." 

"  At  any  rate,"  said  Ugo,  ignoring  his  wife's  reflection 
on  the  dulness  of  existence  at  Viterbo,  "he  has  benefited 
in  his  health  by  leading  our  country  life  for  a  few  weeks. 
When  you  came  to  us,  Fabrizio,  you  were  a  very  different 
person." 

" A  very  different  person,  indeed,"  responded  Fabrizio;  "but, 
all  the  same,  Ugo,  I  feel  that  it  is  time  I  returned  to  Rome. 
My  mother,  too,  will  be  wondering  why  I  remain  so  long 
away." 

"  It  seems  to  me  to  be  absurd  to  go  back  to  Rome  in  this 
heat,"  his  cousin  replied.  "  Why  not  persuade  your  mother  to 
join  you  here,  and  remain  with  us  at  all  events  until  the  middle 
of  July  ?     By  that  time  the  season  at  the  bagni  will  have  begun. 


TEMPTATION  117 

I  think  you  told  me  that  your  mother  always  went  to  Montecatini 
for  the  bagni.  What  do  you  say,  Cristina  ?  would  not  that  be  a 
good  arrangement  ?  After  all,  everybody  will  be  leaving  Rome 
now,  I  suppose,  and  it  will  be  nearly  as  dull  there  as  you  say 
Fabrizio  finds  it  here." 

"But  I  do  not  find  it  dull  at  all,"  interrupted  Fabrizio  ;  "if  I 
had  found  it  so,  I  should  not  have  remained  for  more  than  a 
month — should  I,  Cristina?"  he  added,  appealing  to  Countess 
Vitali. 

Cristina  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Health  resorts  are  said 
always  to  be  dull,"  she  remarked  drily.  "  No  doubt  you  have 
accepted  the  dulness  as  part  of  the  cure  !  But  Ugo  is  quite  right. 
If  you  think  that  your  signora  madre  would  join  you  here,  we 
would  do  our  best  to  make  her  comfortable." 

"  My  mother  ? "  exclaimed  Fabrizio  quickly,  "  ah,  no !  I 
mean,"  he  added,  suddenly  realising  the  abruptness  of  his  reply, 
"  my  mother  never  visits ;  she  never  leaves  home  except  for  the 
six  weeks  she  spends  every  year  at  Montecatini.  You  are  both 
very  kind  to  think  of  asking  her  here,  but  I  am  sure  that  it 
would  be  of  no  use,  she  would  not  pay  a  visit." 

"  But  a  family  visit  is  a  different  thing,"  insisted  Ugo.  "  She 
ought  not  to  feel  a  stranger  in  Palazzo  Vitali," 

Fabrizio  shook  his  head.  "A  thousand  thanks,  Ugo,"  he 
said,  "but  it  would  be  impossible." 

The  tone  of  his  voice  was  such  that  Ugo  did  not  press  the 
point  further.  Countess  Vitali  looked  at  Fabrizio  quickly,  with 
the  expression  in  her  eyes  that  was  half  cunning  and  half 
malicious.  The  dinner  by  this  time  was  over,  and  Taddeo  and 
the  footmen  proceeded  to  serve  the  fruit — strawberries  of  the 
small,  old-fashioned  kind  with  a  delicate,  scented  flavour ;  the 
strawberries  now  and  again  still  to  be  found  in  some  cottage 
garden  in  England,  as  superior  to  the  modern  "  improvements  " 
as  are  the  cabbage  and  moss  roses  more  fragrant  than  all  the 
productions,  possessed  of  high-sounding  names  and  gorgeous 
colouring,  of  the  modern  rose-grower ;  and  early  figs,  known  as 
fiori,  which  are  but  a  somewhat  vapid  foretaste  of  the  fruit  yet  to 
come  later  in  the  summer. 


118  TEMPTATION 

Count  Vitali  looked  doubtfully  at  the  figs  as  they  were  offered 
to  him. 

"  The  signor  conte  need  not  be  afraid,"  remarked  Taddeo, 
noticing  his  hesitation,  "  the  figs  were  gathered  before  the  rain 
came  on ;  otherwise,  there  would  be  danger  of  fine  pains  in  the 
stomach,  if  not  of  more  inconvenient  things." 

Presently  Cristina  rose  from  the  table,  and,  taking  Fabrizio's 
arm  went  into  the  adjoining  room  where  coffee  was  brought  to 
them.  The  windows  on  to  the  terrace  were  all  opened,  and 
through  them  came  wafts  of  fragrance  on  the  evening  air  from 
the  country  refreshed  by  the  rain.  The  moon  was  rising,  and 
the  short  Italian  twilight  was  fast  yielding  to  its  yellow  rays. 
The  nightingales  were  silent,  their  season  of  song  being  already 
past ;  and  now  only  an  occasional  hoarse  croak,  easily  mistaken 
for  that  of  a  frog,  issued  from  the  brown  throats  that  until  lately 
had  made  the  gardens  resound  with  the  melody.  The  fire-flies, 
too,  had  extinguished  their  lamps  of  love,  though  now  and  then 
a  belated  female,  still  hoping  to  attract  a  lover,  flitted  fitfully 
through  the  dark  shade  cast  by  the  cypress  trees.  The  soft  sound 
of  the  bell-frog  in  the  low-lying  ground  beneath  the  gardens ;  the 
plaintive  chiu-chiil  of  the  little  grey  owls  calling  to  each  other 
among  the  ilex  trees ;  the  whirring  note  of  a  fern-owl,  now  and 
again  interrupted  the  ceaseless  chirping  of  the  grilli  in  the 
grassy  banks  of  the  vineyards.  A  voluptuous  repose  had  settled 
on  all  Nature.  Even  the  irrepressible  grilli  seemed  to  be  singing 
in  their  sleep. 

For  some  time  the  three  sat  on  the  terrace,  Ugo  and  Fabrizio 
smoking  their  cigars  in  silence.  There  was  a  certain  fascination 
in  watching  the  moonlight  gradually  stealing  up  the  dark  foliage 
of  the  ilex  and  the  slender  shafts  of  the  cypresses,  changing  their 
blackness  to  a  silvery  sheen. 

"And  you  wish  to  exchange  this  light  for  the  electric  lights 
in  the  Corso,  and  the  sounds  we  hear  for  the  yelling  of  the 
newspaper  sellers  and  the  noise  of  the  trams ! "  said  Ugo 
Vitali  presently.  "  I  say  nothing  of  the  exchange  in  smells," 
he  added  laughing.  '*  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  mad, 
Fabrizia" 


TEMPTATION  119 

"  I  think  I  am,"  Fabrizio  replied,  looking  at  Countess  Vitali 
as  he  spoke.  "  But  your  country  is  a  dangerous  place ;  I  feel 
that  it  would  be  wiser  for  me  to  run  away  from  it  before  " — 
and  he  paused. 

"Dangerous?"  repeated  Ugo.  "  I  should  say  that  a  city  like 
Rome  is  much  more  dangerous  !  You  have  not  many  tempta- 
tions here  at  Palazzo  Vitali,  unless  you  wish  to  take  the  trouble 
to  look  for  them  in  Viterbo,  and  I  do  not  know  that  the  search 
would  repay  you,  though  to  be  sure  the  Viterbesi  are  a  good- 
looking  population.  No  doubt  you  have  discovered  that  for 
yourself.  But  I  am  told  that  the  best  looking  of  the  women  are 
apt  to  go  to  Rome." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  why  he  is  anxious  to  return  there,"  observed 
Cristina  sarcastically.  "  He  wishes  to  pursue  an  adventure 
commenced  at  Viterbo.  We  are  beginning  to  understand, 
Fabrizio,  why  you  have  been  able  to  endure  life  here  for  so 
long ! " 

Ugo  laughed.  "  What  have  you  got  to  say  ?  "  he  asked  of  his 
cousin. 

"It  does  not  seem  to  have  struck  Cristina  that,  in  returning 
to  Rome,  I  might  be  anxious  to  escape  from  an  adventure  begun 
at  Viterbo,"  Fabrizio  replied. 

Countess  Vitali's  eyes  flashed  angrily.  "  I  did  not  suppose  you 
to  be  so  faint-hearted  ! "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh  belied  by  the 
look  on  her  face. 

Ugo  yawned  and  stretched  himself  in  his  chair.  "  Perbacco  ! " 
he  said,  "but  I  am  tired!  It  was  infernally  hot  riding  to-day. 
I  shall  leave  you  and  Cristina  to  settle  the  matter  for  yourselves, 
while  I  go  in-doors  to  read  the  papers.  I  do  not  say  that  you 
will  not  find  me  asleep  very  shortly,"  and  getting  out  of  his  chair 
he  left  his  wife  and  Fabrizio  together. 

For  some  minutes  neither  of  them  spoke.  A  faint  air  stirred 
the  ilex  leaves,  and  the  tops  of  the  cypress  trees  swayed  gently. 
Cristina  drew  a  lace  scarf  about  her  neck  and  shoulders. 
"  Let  us  walk  a  httle,"  she  said.  "  I  think  it  is  damp  sitting 
here." 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  and  with  Fabrizio  by  her  side  began 


120  TEMPTATION 

to  walk  slowly  up  and  down  the  terrace.  As  they  passed 
the  open  windows  of  the  drawing-room,  they  could  see  Ugo 
with  his  half-smoked  cigar  between  his  lips  engaged  in 
turning  over  the  newspapers  arrived  that  afternoon  from  the 
capital. 

"  Cristina !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio  suddenly,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  You  do  not  understand " 

Cristina  glanced  rapidly  towards  the  house.  Then  she  fixed 
her  eyes  full  on  his  face.  "  I  understand — everything,"  she  said 
briefly.     "  How  should  I  not  ?  " 

"  But " 

She  checked  him  with  a  quick  gesture.  "Wait,"  she  said 
softly.  "  Not  here.  In  a  few  minutes  we  will  go  down  into  the 
gardens,"  and  she  glanced  again  at  the  windows  of  the  room  in 
which  Ugo  was  sitting. 

A  few  minutes  passed ;  and  then,  on  again  looking  into  the 
drawing-room,  they  saw  that  Ugo  had  let  his  newspapers  slip  on 
to  the  floor  by  his  side.  He  had  thrown  away  his  cigar,  and  was 
evidently  fast  asleep. 

"  He  often  sleeps  like  a  log,  after  dinner,"  said  Cristina,  and 
there  was  a  contemptuous  tone  in  her  voice ;  "  but  Taddeo  will 
come  in  presently  with  the  syrups  and  will  rouse  him.  Wait — " 
and  she  went  quickly  into  the  room  and  stood  beside  her  hus- 
band's chair. 

"  Ugo,"  she  called  to  him,  laying  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 
"Why  do  you  not  go  to  bed?  You  are  very  tired,  and  it  is 
better  to  sleep  in  bed  than  in  that  uncomfortable  position." 

Count  Vitali  sat  up  and  blinked  his  eyes.  "  Sicuro,"  he  said,  "  I 
dropped  asleep.  Yes,  I  am  very  tired,  Cristina ;  and,  as  you 
say,  it  is  better  to  sleep  in  one's  bed  than  in  a  chair.  But  it  is 
early  yet — we  will  go  to  bed  presently." 

"It  is  half-past  nine,"  replied  Cristina.  "You  had  much 
better  go  to  bed,  otherwise  you  will  not  be  able  to  get  to  sleep 
again  for  some  time.  As  for  me,  I  am  not  at  all  sleepy.  I  rested 
all  the  afternoon  in  my  room — after  the  storm.  It  is  so  lovely 
out  of  doors  to-night  that  I  shall  remain  a  little  longer  on  the 
terrace  while  Fabrizio  smokes." 


TEMPTATION  121 

"  Bene,"  answered  Ugo,  yawning  again.  "  I  think  I  will  take 
your  advice,  Cristina.  Riding  under  that  hot  sun  for  so  many 
hours  to-day  has  made  my  head  feel  heavy.  Will  you  tell  Taddeo 
when  you  and  Fabrizio  come  in  that  I  have  gone  to  my  room,  and 
that  I  do  not  wish  to  be  called  before  seven  o'clock  to-morrow  ? 
Luckily,  to-morrow  is  a  festa,  and  I  need  not  be  out  early."  He 
drew  his  wife's  face  down  to  his  and  kissed  her  as  he  wished  her 
good  night.  "  Do  you  think  Fabrizio  really  wants  to  leave  us  ? " 
he  said,  "  or  is  it  that  he  is  afraid  of  outstaying  his  welcome  ?  I 
have  no  doubt  that  you  will  be  able  to  get  the  truth  out  of  him. 
After  all,  what  he  said  about  a  country  life  being  an  idle  life  for  a 
man  who  has  no  property  is  very  likely  true,  and  I  have  often 
thought  he  must  feel  that  it  is  all  very  well  for  me,  the  owner  of 
Palazzo  Vitali,  to  be  contented  here,  and  that  he  must  sometimes 
wish  he  were  in  ray  shoes.  After  all,  he  might  be  in  them  at  any 
moment,  so  I  like  him  to  feel  at  home  here  for  as  long  as  he 
chooses  to  remain." 

Countess  Vitali  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  an  air  of  indiffer- 
ence. "  If  I  were  you,  I  should  not  press  your  cousin  to  remain," 
she  said.  "  By  this  time  he  surely  knows  us  well  enough  to 
understand  that  you  would  always  be  glad  to  see  him  here.  As 
to  his  wishing  to  be  in  your  position,  he  has  of  course  never  even 
alluded  to  the  fact  of  his  being  your  presumptive  heir — any  such 
allusion  would  have  been  in  decidedly  bad  taste,  would  it  not  ? 
No,  let  him  return  to  Rome,  if  he  wants  to  do  so.  You  might 
ask  him  to  pay  us  another  visit  later  on — during  the  vintage,  for 
instance." 

Ugo  nodded.  "  Of  course,"  he  replied,  "  and  now,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  I  am  really  going  to  bed,  Cristina,  I  can  scarcely  keep 
my  eyes  open.  I  think  the  sun  must  have  touched  me  a 
little." 

When  the  door  had  closed  behind  him  Cristina  did  not 
immediately  return  to  the  terrace.  She  could  discern  through 
the  windows  Fabrizio's  figure  on  the  terrace  without.  He 
had  reseated  himself  in  one  of  the  chairs  they  had  lately 
occupied,  and  was  apparently  waiting  until  she  should  have 
spoken   to   her   husband.     She    stood   for   a   few   instants   lost 


122  TEMPTATION 

in  thought,  an  evil  look  upon  her  face.  If  she  could  have 
seen  her  at  that  moment,  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  would  have 
understood  what  Don  Basilio  meant  when  he  said  that  while  in 
Countess  Vitali's  presence  he  had  more  than  once  felt  as  though 
he  were  in  the  vicinity  of  evil.  But  Don  Basilio  had  a 
theory  that  it  was  part  of  the  punishment  of  evil  spirits  who  had 
existed  on  earth  in  the  past  to  exercise  their  malign  influence 
over  human  beings  actually  living,  whose  natures  were  willing  to 
respond  to  such  influence.  He  declared  that  this  theory 
alone  could  account  for  the  commission  of  many  premeditated 
crimes,  the  object  of  which  was  quite  insufficient  to  explain 
their  unreasoning  malignity.  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  would 
laughingly  tell  him  that  his  theory  made  him  regard  individuals 
not  as  wholly  responsible  beings,  but  as  marionettes  answering  to 
the  directions  of  a  spiritual  wire-puller. 

Countess  Vitali  stood  looking  through  the  window  at  Fabrizio 
who  was  sitting  with  his  back  turned  towards  the  house  all  uncon- 
scious of  her  gaze.  Every  sentence  that  she  had  just  uttered  to 
her  husband  had  been  a  lie ;  and  now  she  was  rapidly  considering 
in  her  mind  how  she  could  best  lie  to  her  lover.  The  process  of 
lying  had  always  had  a  fascination  for  her.  She  had  lied  as  a 
child ;  lied  throughout  her  convent  life ;  lied  in  her  marriage 
to  Ugo  Vitali.  In  fact  lying  had  been  for  Cristina  Frezzi 
a  divertinietito — an  excitement  in  an  otherwise  monotonous 
existence.  Perhaps  she  was  scarcely  conscious  that  the  play- 
ing of  a  part  had  become  a  second  nature  to  her ;  if,  indeed, 
it  had  ever  been  anything  else  since  her  earHest  childhood. 
The  years  spent  under  the  care  of  the  nuns  in  the  convent 
at  Perugia  had  certainly  given  her  free  scope  to  practise  her 
talent  for  acting.  Her  shrewdness  had  caused  her  quickly 
to  discover  that  among  the  nuns,  as  among  her  fellow-pupils, 
there  were  those  who  were  honest  in  their  rehgious  convictions 
and  those  who  were  merely  outwardly  conforming,  for  reasons  of 
their  own,  to  forms  and  ceremonies.  That  these  forms  and 
ceremonies  were  anything  more  than  tedious  and  unavoidable 
accidents  in  her  daily  life  at  Perugia,  Cristina  never  doubted  for  a 
moment.     She  had  no  religious  proclivities,  and  not  the  smallest 


TEMPTATION  123 

interest  in  the  sayings  and  doings  of  the  saints,  or  even  in  those  of 
more  exalted  personages  in  the  celestial  hierarchy,  except  when 
these  sayings  and  doings  cast  side-lights  on  the  worldly  matters 
they  sought  to  combat.  Perhaps  the  only  genuine  portion  of  her 
life  with  the  nuns  at  Perugia  was  its  educational  portion. 

The  education  provided  by  the  convent  of  the  Assumption  was, 
as  in  all  houses  of  that  Order  devoting  themselves  to  teach- 
ing, extremely  good  within  its  own  Hmits.  All  the  subjects  likely 
to  be  useful  in  later  life  to  young  girls  were  taught,  and 
taught  well.  With  nuns  recruited  from  every  nation,  modern 
languages,  and  the  literature  of  those  languages — this  last  being, 
naturally,  subjected  to  a  process  of  severe  expurgation — were  im- 
parted to  pupils  not,  as  in  British  educational  institutions,  in 
burlesque  form,  but  thoroughly,  and  practically.  Cristina  Frezzi 
dedicated  herself  to  these  studies  con  amore.  Among  her  fellow- 
boarders  were  girls  belonging  to  noble  families,  being  fitted  by  the 
nuns  for  the  positions  they  might  subsequently  have  to  occupy  in 
that  great  world  which  she  hoped  some  day  to  enter.  Natural 
shrewdness  and  ambition  combined,  both  qualities  no  doubt 
inherited  from  her  grandfather  the  Sicilian  politician,  caused 
Cristina  to  realise  even  at  the  age  of  fifteen  or  so  that  she 
must  be  able  to  compete  with  those  girls  of  noble  birth  who  were 
not  being  prepared  by  the  nuns  merely  for  spiritual  wedlock. 
She  knew  herself  to  be  possessed  of  greater  physical  attractions 
than  any  of  her  nobly  born  companions ;  and  she  was  perfectly 
aware  of  the  marketable  value  of  this  possession.  She  was  told 
by  other  girls  that  her  father  was  rich — by  girls  whose  own  fathers 
had  reason  to  regard  the  cavaliere  Frezzi  as  an  individual  blessed 
with  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  ready  money  to  advance  in 
exchange  for  a  signature.  But  she  was  shrewd  enough  to  realise 
that  the  lack  of  noble  blood  in  her  veins  was  a  handicap  to 
her  ambitions  that  could  only  be  adjusted  by  education.  Indeed, 
a  Bavarian  sister,  herself  of  noble  birth,  with  whom  she  studied 
German,  had  told  her  as  much.  The  Baroness  von  Rosenheim — 
in  religion  Sister  Teresa — had  very  quickly  discovered  that 
Cristina  was  anything  but  spiritually  inclined.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  Sister  Teresa's  own  aspirations  in  that  direction  were  not  of 


124  TEMPTATION 

a  very  high  order.  She  had  entered  religion  for  family  reasons 
not  unconnected  with  material  affections.  There  is  no  greater 
mistake,  however,  than  to  suppose  that  the  Church,  which  is 
always  and  before  all  things  the  Church  militant,  concerns  itself 
exclusively  with  the  things  appertaining  to  the  next  world  ; 
and  the  religious  orders  devoted  to  education  work  upon  a 
system  embracing  all  contingencies  of  character  and  tempera- 
ment among  the  youth  of  both  sexes  confided  to  their  care. 
If  a  girl  or  a  boy  displays  distinct  signs  of  a  religious  temperament, 
she  or  he  will  in  all  probability  be  useful  to  the  Church  in 
the  Church ;  if,  on  the  other  hand,  the  worldly  nature  is 
seen  to  be  predominant,  the  girl  or  the  boy  must  if  possible  be  so 
moulded  as  to  be  useful  to  the  Church  in  the  world.  The 
strength  of  Catholicism,  in  common  with  that  of  all  the  older 
creeds  from  which  it  is  evolved,  has  ever  lain  in  its  power  of 
reconciling  the  spiritual  with  the  material  aspirations  of  human 
nature — a  psychological  combination  the  advisability  of  which 
Protestantism  has  been  apt  to  overlook. 

Sister  Teresa  had  more  than  suspected  that  Cristina  was 
little  else  than  a  pagan  at  heart,  but  it  was  part  of  her  duty  to 
insist  upon  the  truths  of  German  grammar,  and  not  upon  those 
of  the  Catholic  Church.  These  last  lay  within  the  province  of 
another  department.  Cristina's  character  had,  all  unknown  to 
herself,  been  the  subject  of  much  discussion  in  that  inner  sanctum 
where,  in  the  presence  of  the  Mother  Superior,  every  detail  con- 
cerning the  pensionnaires  was  minutely  examined.  It  had  soon 
become  perfectly  clear  to  the  nuns  where  Cristina's  vocation 
lay,  and  directions  to  those  sisters  entrusted  with  her  education 
were  given  accordingly.  Through  Sister  Teresa,  to  whom 
Cristina  gradually  confided  as  much  of  herself  as  she  thought 
fit,  the  girl's  natural  inclinations  became  known  to  the  authorities. 
She  gave  every  promise  of  being  a  beautiful  woman  in  the  future ; 
and  she  would  be  rich.  But  neither  her  beauty  nor  her  wealth  could 
be  of  any  direct  benefit  to  a  spiritual  bridegroom.  This  being 
the  case,  it  was  distinctly  better  to  encourage  her  in  her  ambition 
to  supplement  her  beauty  and  prospective  riches  by  an  education 
which  should  fit  her  to  assume  any  position  in  the  world  that 


TEMPTATION  125 

these  might  one  day  help  her  to  obtain.  The  influence  of  the 
convent  education  would  probably  assert  itself  in  after  life ;  and 
the  bread  flung  upon  the  waters  in  some  way  or  another  con- 
tribute in  the  future  to  the  sustenance  of  the  Church.  Of  all 
the  community  in  the  convent  at  Perugia,  Sister  Teresa  was 
probably  the  only  one  who  suspected  that  Cristina  was  utterly 
indifferent  to  the  religion  which  all  practised  with  greater  or  less 
devotion.  No  advantage,  as  the  girl  very  well  knew,  was  to  be 
gained  by  displaying  any  overt  signs  of  this  indiff'erence  which 
would  at  times  develop  into  a  contempt  no  less  bitter  because  it 
had  to  be  concealed.  She  was  happier  at  the  convent  than  she 
would  have  been  at  home  with  some  old  governess  who  would 
perforce  have  to  look  after  her  during  her  father's  perpetual 
absences.  At  the  convent,  moreover,  she  had  the  constant 
society  of  other  girls  who  were  her  superiors  in  rank  and  birth. 
It  had  needed  all  the  cavaliere  Frezzi's  influence  with  certain  of 
his  clerical  clients,  and  some  of  his  money,  to  prevail  upon  the 
Mother  Superior  to  admit  the  daughter  of  a  mercante  di  campagna, 
however  wealthy,  amongst  the  pupils  in  her  convent ;  for  the 
houses  of  the  Assumption  vied  with  those  of  the  Sacre  Coeur  in 
their  exclusiveness. 

And  so  it  happened  that,  although  it  was  soon  confessed  with 
sighs  and  shaking  of  heads  that  Cristina  Frezzi  had  no  vocation 
for  the  religious  life,  the  nuns  had  no  suspicion  that  they  were 
harbouring  a  pagan  in  their  midst.  Sister  Teresa  kept  her  own 
counsel  on  the  matter ;  her  conscience  being  of  sufficient  elasticity 
to  allow  of  her  not  communicating  to  her  superiors  all  she  had 
succeeded  in  learning  of  the  girl's  character. 

Cristina  interested  her ;  and  she  looked  forward  to  following 
her  pupil's  career  when,  her  education  being  completed,  she 
should  begin  her  life  in  the  world.  Even  Sister  Teresa,  however, 
was  far  from  realising  how  very  little  she  knew  of  Cristina. 
The  Bavarian  lady  of  long  descent  was  no  match  for  the  cunning 
and  the  love  of  falsehood  for  falsehood's  sake  that  Cristina 
Frezzi  perhaps  inherited  from  some  unusally  cattivo  soggetto 
among  her  Norcian  peasant  ancestry.  As  to  Cristina's  confessor, 
the  poor  man  never  heard  the  truth  from  her  lips  at  any  time  \ 


126  TEMPTATION 

and  as,  even  had  he  heard  it,  his  own  lips  would  have  been 
sealed,  there  was  nobody  to  suspect  that  Cristina,  even  though 
she  had  not  "the  vocation,"  was  less  of  a  believing  Catholic 
than  countless  other  young  girls  who  were  not  conspicuous 
for  their  devotion  to  matters  connected  with  the  next  world. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

T^WO  or  three  minutes  after  her  husband  had  left  the  drawing- 
-■■  room  Countess  VitaH  rang  the  bell.  Whatever  the  thoughts 
might  have  been  that  caused  her  face  to  wear  for  a  few  moments 
an  almost  sinister  expression,  the  look  had  passed  when  the 
young  footman  appeared  at  the  door  to  answer  the  summons. 

*'  Where  is  Taddeo  ? "  Cristina  asked  of  him.  The  boy 
spread  out  his  hands  with  an  apologetic  gesture.  Taddeo  had 
gone  in  citta — to  the  farmacia,  he  explained.  Taddeo's  wife  had 
the  fever,  and  he  had  gone  to  get  her  some  saliceto.  He  had 
told  him,  Cesare,  to  answer  the  bell  if  it  rang.  Did  the  signora 
contessa  require  anything. 

*'  You  can  bring  in  the  syrups  and  leave  them  here,"  said 
Cristina,  "and  tell  Taddeo  that  we  shall  not  want  anything 
more  this  evening,  I  am  sorry  to  hear  his  wife  has  the  fever. 
Tell  him,  too,  that  the  signor  conte  has  gone  to  his  room,  and 
that  he  is  not  to  be  called  until  seven  o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 

"  And  the  windows  ?  "  asked  the  lad,  with  a  glance  at  the  open 
iersiennes. 

*'  We,  Count  Fabrizio  and  I,  will  shut  them,"  replied  Countess 
Vitali,  "and  we  will  also  put  out  the  lamps.  We  are  going  to 
remain  on  the  terrace  for  a  little  longer.  You  can  bring  the 
syrups  now." 

Cesare  was  about  to  leave  the  room  when  Cristina  stopped 

him.     "  You   quite   understand,    Cesare,"   she   added.     "  When 

Taddeo  returns,  you  will  tell  him  that  nothing  more  will  be  wanted 

to-night,  and  that  Count  Fabrizio  and  I  will  see  that  the  windows 

are  properly  closed  and  the  lamps  put  out  before   we   retire. 

When  you  have  brought  the  syrups,  and  Taddeo  has  returned, 

you  can  go  to  bed.    Taddeo  will  be  glad  to  be  with  his  wife.    The 

fever  is  not  high,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Signora  contessa,  no  !  an  alterazione  only — a  sciocchezza." 

127 


128  TEMPTATION 

Cristina  nodded.  "That  is  well,"  she  replied.  "Do  not 
forget  to  tell  Taddeo  that  he  need  not  come  upstairs  again. 
"  Buona  notte,  Cesare,"  she  added  pleasantly  to  the  lad,  and 
picking  up  her  lace  scarf  she  passed  out  on  to  the  terrace. 
Fabrizio,  hearing  her  footsteps  behind  him,  rose  from  his  chair 
and  advanced  to  meet  her. 

"What  have  you  done  with  Ugo  ?  "  he  asked  of  her. 

"  Ugo  has  gone  to  bed,"  she  replied.  "  I  suggested  to  him 
that  a  bed  was  a  more  comfortable  place  to  sleep  in  than  a  chair, 
and  he  agreed." 

"  And  you — are  you  going  to  follow  his  example  ?  " 

Cristina  looked  at  him.  "  Is  that  a  hint  that  you  wish  to  get 
rid  of  your  hostess  ?  "  she  inquired,  with  a  smile.  She  stood  in 
front  of  him,  the  moonlight  falling  upon  the  white  folds  of  her 
dress,  and  glinting  upon  the  thick  coils  of  her  hair. 

Fabrizio  laughed  nervously.  "  Of  course  not ! "  he  said 
hesitatingly,  but " 

"  It  is  early,"  proceeded  Cristina  tranquilly,  "  and  I  do  not 
feel  the  least  inclined  to  go  to  my  room."  She  drew  one  of  the 
wicker  arm-chairs  to  her  as  she  spoke,  and  turning  it  so  that  she 
could  see  into  the  windows  of  the  drawing-room,  sat  down  in  it. 

"So,"  she  continued,  a  little  abruptly,  "you  really  mean  to 
leave  us  and  return  to  Rome." 

"  What  else  can  I  do — now  ?  " 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Cristina  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  to  herself. 
"But,  after  all,  from  your  point  of  view,  from  a  man's  point  of 
view,  no  doubt  you  are  right.  A  man  can  go  away,  and  forget. 
A  woman  must  remain." 

"  Cristina  ! "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "  Do  you  not  see  ?  can  you 
not  understand  ?  it  would  be  a  tradimento.     Ugo " 

Countess  Vitali  interrupted  him  with  a  warning  gesture. 
Within  the  drawing-room  Cesare  was  moving  to  and  fro,  arranging 
a  tray  on  which  were  syrups  of  various  kinds  of  fruits,  ice,  and 
fresh  spring  water.  She  called  him  out  on  to  the  terrace.  "  You 
can  close  all  the  windows  but  the  centre  one,"  she  said  to  him. 
"  Has  Taddeo  returned?"  she  added. 

"Signora  contessa,   si — and  I  have  given  him  the  messages. 


TEMPTATION  129 

He  has  gone  to  give  the  saliceto  to  his  wife,  and  has  told  me  to 
close  everything  downstairs  and  to  go  to  bed.  Has  the  signora 
contessa  any  further  orders  ?  " 

"No,  that  is  all." 

"  Felice  notte,  signora  contessa  !  "  In  a  minute  or  two  came 
the  sound  of  closing  shutters,  and  the  lamps  in  the  drawing- 
room  cast  a  streak  of  yellow  light  across  the  white,  moonlit 
terrace. 

"If  I  go  away,"  said  Fabrizio  presently,  when  the  footman 
had  left  the  drawing-room,  "  it  is  not  to  forget.  If  I  were  any 
other  man,  and  not  myself,  if  you  were  not  Ugo's  wife,  I  should 
not  want  to  go  away  before — before  it  was  too  late  ! " 

"  And  if  it  is  already  too  late  ?  " 

Fabrizio  looked  at  her.     "  Already  too  late  ? "  he  repeated. 

Cristina  Vitali  laughed — a  bitter  laugh. 

"Not  quite,  you  think,"  she  said  quickly.  "  But  that,  again, 
is  from  your  point  of  view — from  a  man's.  It  is  never  too  late, 
from  the  man's  point  of  view,  until  he  has  got  all  he  wants  from 
a  woman ;  and  even  then — "  and  she  completed  her  sentence  by 
a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  No  ! "  Fabrizio  exclaimed  impetuously.  "  You  have  no  right 
to  put  that  construction  on  my  motives,  Cristina,  no  right  at  all. 
Why  is  it  that  you  cannot,  or  that  you  will  not  understand? 
Ugo  has  treated  me  well,  and — and — oh,  for  the  love  of  God  do 
not  look  at  me  like  that,  one  is  not  a  stone,  you  know  !  Did 
you  not  tell  me  yourself  the  other  day  that  of  course  I  could  not 
remain  here  indefinitely?  Why  will  you  not  let  me  go  away 
now,  while  there  is  yet  time  ?  " 

"You  are  afraid  of  compromising  yourself  with  Ugo,"  Cristina 
said  in  a  low  voice,  "  but  you  do  not  think  of  me  !  Why  do  you 
not  tell  me  the  truth?" 

"  I  told  you  the  truth  this  afternoon,"  returned  Fabrizio ;  "  or, 
if  I  did  not  use  words,  it  was  the  same  thing." 

"And  I,"  said  Cristina,  looking  at  him  always,  and  her  brown 

eyes  seemed  to  dilate  and  gleam  golden  in  the  moonlight — "  I 

did  not  use  words,  either.     Come,"  she  added,  as  Fabrizio  with 

a  sudden  movement  rose  to  his  feet  and  drew  nearer  to  her,  "let 

I 


130  TEMPTATION 

us  walk  a  little.  We  are  too  close  to  the  house  to  talk  freely. 
Some  servant  might  be  listening  from  behind  the  persiennes" 
She  moved  away  as  she  spoke  and  walked  slowly  down  the 
terrace  towards  the  central  flight  of  steps  leading  down  to  the 
gardens  beneath.  Leaning  against  one  of  the  grey  stone  vases 
flanking  the  balustrade  of  the  steps,  she  glanced  upwards  at  the 
house.  With  the  exception  of  the  open  window  of  the  drawing- 
room  and  the  faint  light  issuing  from  it,  not  a  sign  of  life  was  to 
be  seen  in  Palazzo  Vitali.  The  green  casements  on  every  storey 
were  closed,  and  the  lofty  facade  rose  bare  and  cold  in  the  moon- 
light. Not  a  sound  was  to  be  heard,  except  the  chirping  of  the 
grilli,  the  gentle  splashing  of  a  fountain,  and  now  and  again 
the  plaintive  chiu-chiii  of  the  owls.  Cristina  turned,  and  followed 
by  Fabrizio  descended  the  steps.  Turning  down  a  broad  path 
bordered  on  each  side  by  hedges  of  box  they  entered  the  ilex 
avenue  skirting  one  side  of  the  gardens.  The  moonbeams 
straying  through  the  heavy  foliage  cast  little  chequered  patterns 
of  light  and  shadow  on  the  path  beneath,  falling  here  and  there 
on  the  seamed  trunks  of  the  trees  that  had  seen  medieval  pope 
and  cardinals  pacing  beneath  them,  and  Donna  Giulia  Vitali  in 
converse  with  the  lover  who  was  destined  to  be  her  victim. 

"  Why  do  you  accuse  me  of  fearing  to  compromise  myself  with 
Ugo  ?  "  Fabrizio  said,  pausing  in  an  open  glade  in  the  avenue,  in 
the  centre  of  which  was  a  statue  of  Ganymede,  whose  hand  was 
reposing  on  the  back  of  a  headless  eagle. 

"  It  is  natural  that  you  should  fear  to  offend  him,"  answered 
Cristina  coldly      "Are  you  not  his  heir  ?  " 

Fabrizio  muttered  an  impatient  exclamation.  "His  heir-at- 
law — yes,"  he  said,  "  but  that  means  very  little.  Ugo  might  sell 
his  property  if  he  chose.  Besides,  as  I  have  told  you  before,  he 
and  I  are  too  nearly  of  the  same  age  to  make  it  worth  while  to 
consider  such  vague  contingencies." 

Countess  Vitali  smiled.  "  They  are  less  vague  than  you  think, 
Fabrizio.  Ugo  has  been  talking  to  me  lately  about  his  affairs. 
Except  myporzlone  vedovile,  everything,  as  things  stand  at  present, 
would  go  to  you  should  he  die  before  you." 

Notwithstanding  his  efforts  to  appear  indifferent,  Fabrizio  Vitali 


TEMPTATION  131 

could  not  repress  a  slight  start,  "  Even  so,"  he  said,  after  a 
slight  pause,  during  which  Cristina  watched  him  with  the  same 
smile  on  her  lips,  "  the  contingency  remains  as  vague  as  before. 
There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  outlive  Ugo,  and  I  do  not  wish 
to  think  about  it,"  he  added  impatiently. 

"No,"  observed  Cristina  thoughtfully,  "as  you  say,  there  is 
no  reason  why  you  should  outlive  Ugo.  But  one  never  knows. 
Life  is  an  uncertain  thing,  non  h  vero  ?  No,  decidedly,  one  never 
knows." 

"Why  did  you  marry  him?  why,  Cristina?"  asked  Fabrizio 
suddenly. 

"Ma/"  exclaimed  Countess  Vitali,  with  a  short  sigh.  It  is 
perhaps  lucky  for  you  that  I  did,  aniico  mio.  Had  he  married  a 
woman  who  had  brought  him  children,  where  would  you  be? 
Besides,  when  I  married  I  did  not  know  anything  of  life ;  worse 
than  that,  I  did  not  know  myself.  How  can  you  expect  a  girl 
just  out  of  a  convent  to  know  what  Hfe  may  contain  ? " 

This  contradiction  to  assurances  he  had  heard  before  from 
Cristina's  lips  as  to  the  occupants  of  convents  being  far  from 
ignorant  of  what  passed  in  the  world  outside  their  walls,  escaped 
Fabrizio's  notice. 

"As  for  why  I  married  Ugo,  you  have  asked  me  that  question 
before,  and  I  have  answered  it,"  proceeded  Cristina.  "  It  was  a 
mistake,  but  I  never  realised  until  lately  how  great  a  mistake." 

"  Until  lately  ?  " 

"Until  very  lately.     This  afternoon,  perhaps  !" 

Fabrizio  felt  as  if  the  blood  were  mounting  to  his  head  and 
surging  through  his  brain.  He  caught  her  hands  and  drew  her 
to  him. 

"  Cristina  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  do  you  mean  that  ?  " 

She  let  her  hands  remain  in  his  for  a  moment  and  then  drew 
them  gently  away. 

"Ah,  no?"  she  whispered.  "It  is  useless,  Fabrizio,  you  can 
never  take  back  that  kiss,  never !  All  the  same,  you  will  leave 
me,  because  I  am  your  cousin's  wife  and  not  another  woman 
whom  you  could  have  loved  without  endangering  your  own 
interests." 


132  TEMPTATION 

*' Perdio,"  swore  Fabrizio,  "you  are  unjust!  Do  you  think  I 
would  not  sacrifice  my  interests  to  have  your  love?  You  are 
ujnjust,  Cristina,  and  you  are  cruel  as  well." 

A  silence  fell  between  them.  From  the  open  country  beyond 
the  gardens  came  the  faint  whirring  of  the  goatsuckers  hawking 
for  moths.  A  great  bat  swooped  down  from  the  higher  branches 
of  the  ilex  trees  and  almost  touched  them  with  its  wings  as  it 
circled  round  them,  Fabrizio  could  see  its  eyes,  and  its  lips 
drawn  back  in  an  evil  grin;  and  something  in  the  creature,  he 
knew  not  what,  recalled  Donna  Giulia's  face  to  his  mind,  as  that 
face  had  gazed  at  him  from  the  canvas  in  the  gallery  a  few  hours 
before.  The  impression  passed  in  a  moment,  however.  Cristina 
stood  before  him,  her  gaze  fixed  upon  him,  and  he  had  no  thought 
then  but  for  her  beauty.  Had  she  not  confessed  that  she  loved 
him,  and  did  he  not  know  now  that  she  was  ready  to  give  heiself 
to  him  ? 

Cristina's  voice,  low  and  rapid,  broke  the  silence.  "  You  are 
right  to  think  of  your  interests,"  she  said,  "and  I  think  of  them 
also.  Some  day,  perhaps,  I  will  show  you  that  they  have  been 
safe  in  my  hands.  But,"  she  added,  with  a  ring  of  contempt  in 
her  tones,  "  you  are  afraid  to  trust  me.  All  the  same,  you  were 
not  afraid  this  afternoon  !  " 

"  And  I  am  not  afraid  now  !  "  burst  out  Fabrizio.  He  seized 
her  hands  again,  and  drawing  her  to  him,  kissed  her  with  hot, 
passionate  kisses.  "  I  am  not  afraid  any  longer,"  he  continued, 
"you  have  conquered,  Cristina,  and  we  belong  to  one  another 
from  this  night.  Why  should  I  throw  away  what  the  Gods  have 
sent  into  my  life  ?  are  there  not  hundreds  and  thousands  of  people 
in  the  same  condition  as  ourselves — who  love  each  other  but  may 
not  confess  their  love  before  the  world  ?  " 

He  was  unconscious  that  his  words  were  addressed  as  much  to 
himself  as  to  her.  His  passion  had  mastered  him,  and  his 
scruples  of  honour,  nay  even  his  self-interest,  were  thrown  to  the 
winds.  The  philosophers  were  forgotten,  and  with  them  the 
exercise  of  the  power  of  Will  that  was  to  dominate  action  and 
teach  men  to  be  reliant  only  on  themselves. 

Into    Countess   Vitali's    eyes    as   she   listened   to   his  words 


TEMPTATION  133 

came  a  fleeting  expression  of  a  triumph.  But  her  eyes  had 
lightened  with  another  expression  as  well,  and  one  that  was 
not  wholly  assumed.  Ugo  Vitali  had  seen  it,  during  the  first 
months  of  his  marriage,  and  had  mistaken  it  for  love.  And 
yet  on  this  occasion  Cristina's  eyes  had  not  lied.  In  yield- 
ing herself  to  Fabrizio's  kisses  she  was  conscious  that  she  was 
moved  by  something  more  than  passion,  something  that  had 
never  before  entered  into  her  life.  That  afternoon,  when  she  had 
shut  herself  into  her  room  after  leaving  Fabrizio,  she  had 
experienced  a  surprise  that  was  almost  bewilderment.  Was  it 
possible,  she  asked  herself,  that  she  loved  Fabrizio — not  with  that 
love  she  had  felt  for  her  husband,  which  had  scarcely  survived  its 
material  satisfaction  before  it  became  a  weariness,  but  with  a  love 
that  was  not  all  passion  ?  The  thought  was  absurd.  As  a  man, 
Fabrizio  was  inferior  to  his  cousin  in  everything,  save  perhaps 
in  his  intellect.  She  knew  his  weaknesses,  realised  his  egoism 
that  formed  so  prominent  a  contrast  with  Ugo's  frank  generosity 
of  character.  She  even  despised  him  for  his  vacillation,  for  the 
weak  way  in  which  he  allowed  his  good  impulses  to  hinder,  but 
only  to  hinder,  his  bad  ones,  causing  him  to  search  for  excuses  to 
himself  even  at  the  moment  of  yielding  to  his  desires.  But  in 
spite  of  his  inferiority  to  Ugo  in  character,  in  bodily  strength  and 
manly  bearing  and  good  looks — perhaps  even  on  account  of  the 
contrast  in  all  points  between  him  and  her  husband,  Cristina  had 
of  late  become  conscious  that  Fabrizio  had  aroused  sympathies 
in  her  which  Ugo  had  entirely  failed  to  call  forth.  From  the  first 
she  had  played  with  him,  as  a  cat  may  play  with  a  mouse,  secure 
in  the  conviction  that  sooner  or  later  she  could  give  him  the 
coup  de  patte  which  would  stun  all  other  feelings  in  him.  It  was 
true  that  she  had  no  respect  for  him,  and  even  a  little  contempt ; 
but  many  women  have  given  their  love  where  they  could  not  give 
their  respect,  their  ability  to  do  so  forming  not  the  least  of  the 
complexities  and  contradictions  of  the  female  temperament. 

For  a  moment  or  two  Cristina  remained  passive  in  Fabrizio's 
embrace.  Then  she  released  herself  from  it,  looking  appre- 
hensively into  the  deep  shadows  cast  by  the  ilex  trees  all  around 
the  spot  on  which  they  were  standing. 


134  TEMPTATION 

"  But  of  course  I  "  she  murmured.  "  Is  it  so  rare  a  position — 
yours  and  mine  ?  I  have  heard  that,  in  Rome,  it  is  the  rule 
rather  than  the  exception,  such  love  as  ours." 

"  Ah,"  returned  Fabrizio  quickly,  "  in  Rome  it  would  be  easy 
enough  !  but  here — "  and  he  paused. 

Cristina  frowned.     "  We  must  think,"  she  said  briefly. 

"You  must  make  Ugo  bring  you  to  Rome,"  Fabrizio  continued. 
"But  the  winter  is  a  long  way  off,  and  in  the  meantime " 

"  In  the  meantime,"  interrupted  Cristina,  "  we  must  be  careful, 
Fabrizio,  we  must  think,  as  I  said  just  now.  Of  course  you 
must  return  to  Rome — this  week  or  next  week,  what  does  it 
matter?  You  will  come  back  to  Palazzo  Vitali  later  on.  Ugo 
means  to  ask  you  to  return  here  for  the  vintage,  when  you 
have  been  to  the  bagni.  You  must  trust  everything  to  me, 
and  you  will  see  that  we  shall  be  happy,  amor  mio.  Perhaps  I 
shall  be  able  to  persuade  Ugo  to  pass  a  season  in  Rome — who 
knows  ? " 

Fabrizio  looked  at  her  eagerly,  "  But  you  will  not  send  me 
away  from  you  without  giving  me " 

Cristina  checked  him  with  a  sudden  gesture.  "  Pazienza ! " 
she  whispered.  "  We  must  have  patience,  Fabrizio  mio,  and 
prudence.     Before  you  go,  you  shall  be  happy.     I  swear  it." 

"  Cristina  !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.     "  Cristina  !  " 

"  Hush !  You  must  be  patient."  She  spoke  as  though 
soothing  a  child,  "  Andiamo,  Fabrizio,"  she  continued  quickly, 
"  andiamoci !  we  have  been  here  long  enough.  The  clocks  are 
striking  ten." 

She  turned  as  she  spoke,  and  together  they  retraced  their  steps 
down  the  avenue.  The  moon  had  passed  behind  the  house,  the 
front  of  which  was  now  in  shadow ;  only  the  light  from  the 
drawing-room  streamed  across  the  terrace.  Ascending  the  steps 
in  silence  they  passed  into  the  room,  and  Cristina  quietly  closed 
and  bolted  ihe  persiennes  and  the  window.  Not  a  sound  was  to 
be  heard  within  the  house.  Countess  Vitali  lighted  a  candle,  and 
pouring  a  little  syrup  of  oranges  into  a  glass,  added  some  water, 
and  drank  it. 

Fabrizio   gazed    at   her   earnestly,    questioningly.      "  Another 


TEMPTATION  135 

quarter  of  an  hour,"  he  pleaded.  "  The  house  is  asleep,  we  shall 
be  undisturbed  here." 

Cristina  shook  her  head.  "  Pazienza,"  she  repeated,  with  a 
smile.  "  For  this  evening,  I  have  given  you  enough.  Buona 
notte,  Fabrizio,  sleep  well !  and  before  you  leave  the  room, 
remember  to  put  out  the  lamps,  and  to  take  a  candle  with  you,  or 
you  will  lose  your  way  to  your  room.  I  hope  Donna  Giulia  will 
not  appear  to  you  as  you  go  through  the  gallery  ! "  and  passing 
him  quickly  she  disappeared  through  the  double  doors  leading  to 
the  apartments  she  and  Ugo  occupied. 

Left  to  himself,  Fabrizio  poured  himself  out  a  glass  of  iced 
water  and  drank  it  hastily.  The  coldness  of  it  refreshed  his 
throat  which  was  dry  and  parched,  and  seemed  to  calm  the  blood 
running  riot  through  his  veins.  Almost  mechanically  he  ex- 
tinguished the  old-fashioned  moderator  lamps,  and  taking  up  the 
candle  Cristina  had  already  lighted  for  him,  he  left  the  drawing- 
room  by  the  doors  opposite  to  those  through  which  she  had  just 
vanished.  He  walked  through  the  suite  of  deserted  rooms  on 
the  piano  nobile  and  on  reaching  the  gallery,  unconsciously 
quickened  his  steps.  At  the  end  of  the  long  room,  by  the  door 
through  which  he  had  to  pass  to  gain  the  ante-chamber  out  of 
which  his  own  apartment  opened,  hung  the  portrait  of  Donna 
Giulia  Vitali,  but  to-night  Fabrizio  was  determined  that  he  would 
not  allow  his  glance  to  fall  on  it.  Turning  his  head  in  the 
opposite  direction  he  reached  the  door  and  closed  it  behind  him, 
not  without  a  sense  of  reHef  that  he  had  not  again  encountered 
the  eyes  that  had  seemed  that  afternoon  to  follow  him  with  their 
mocking  gaze,  nor  heard  the  laugh  that  since  his  dream  on  the 
night  of  his  arrival  at  Palazzo  Vitali  had  haunted  his  imagination. 

On  gaining  his  own  room  he  set  his  candle  down  on  a  table 
near  the  bed  and  flung  himself  into  an  arm-chair,  trying,  as 
Cristina  had  told  him  to  do,  to  think.  But  connected  thought 
was  impossible,  for  chaos  was  reigning  in  his  brain,  and  a  mad 
desire.  Patience?  till  to-morrow,  the  day  after,  for  how  long. 
It  could  not  be  for  long.  Ugo  was  away  nearly  every  day,  for 
hours,  and  Ugo  would  never  know.  Besides,  Cristina  did  not 
know — did  not  realise  what  she  was  doing  when  she  married  Ugo, 


136  TEMPTATION 

she  had  not  known  what  love  meant.  He  was  sorry  for  Ugo,  but, 
after  all,  in  love  and  in  war  people  must  take  their  chance ;  and 
if  fortune  had  chosen  to  favour  him  and  not  Ugo,  it  was  no  fault 
of  his.  Besides,  if  Cristina's  suspicions  were  true,  and  Ugo 
were  in  love  with  the  San  Felice,  Ugo  could  console  himself, — 
probably  had  consoled  himself  before  now. 

At  length,  wearied  with  trying  to  collect  his  thoughts,  Fabrizio 
rose,  and  lighting  the  candles  on  the  dressing-table  began  to  take 
off  his  clothes  preparatory  to  going  to  bed,  unlikely  though  it  was 
that  sleep  would  come  to  him  for  at  any  rate  some  hours.  He 
selected  a  book — not  a  philosophic  work,  but  a  novel  from  among 
some  which  Cristina  had  lent  him — and  after  blowing  out  the 
other  lights  on  the  dressing-table  carried  it,  together  with  a  candle, 
to  the  bedside.  Suddenly  he  started  back  with  an  exclamation 
of  horrified  dismay,  while  book  and  candle  fell  together  on  the  floor 
plunging  the  room  into  what  seemed  for  the  moment  to  be  absolute 
darkness.  It  was  only  gradually  that  the  moonlight  filtering  through 
the  shutters  showed  Fabrizio  that  his  eyes  had  not  deceived  him, 
and  that  here  was  no  trick  of  disordered  nerves.  On  the  bed, 
as  he  had  found  it  the  first  night  he  had  passed  in  Pahzzo  Vitali, 
was  the  crucifix,  with  the  ivory  Christ  concealed  beneath  the  ebony 
cross  which  stood  out,  an  omen  of  death,  black  and  forbidding 
against  the  white  linen  of  the  pillow  beneath  it. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

T  T  was  late  the  following  morning  when  Fabrizio  Vitali  left  his 
■*-  room.  After  the  first  feelings  of  dismay  that  so  unlucky  a 
portent  should  have  repeated  itself  had  subsided,  he  began  to 
reason  with  his  superstitious  fears.  A  hasty  examination  of  the 
spot  where  the  crucifix  had  hung  showed  that  the  nail  had 
evidently  again  given  way.  That  the  crucifix  should  have  fallen 
face  downwards  was  also  natural,  since  the  ivory  figure  of  the 
Christ  was  of  course  heavier  than  the  cross  itself.  Nevertheless, 
as  he  had  observed  to  Cristina  on  the  former  occasion,  the  sight 
of  the  object  lying  where  it  did  was  unpleasantly  suggestive  of 
things  upon  which  he,  at  all  events,  did  not  care  to  allow  his 
mind  to  dwell.  Had  this  repetition  of  so  sinister  a  portent 
occurred  at  any  other  moment,  it  would  almost  certainly  have 
created  a  much  deeper  impression  on  Fabrizio  than  was  actually 
the  case.  His  mind,  however,  was  occupied  with  thoughts  far 
more  material,  and  the  turmoil  of  passion  banished  all  other 
feelings,  leaving  him  considerably  more  indifferent  to  the 
presence  of  the  cross  upon  the  pillows  of  his  bed  than  he  had 
been  on  the  first  night  of  his  visit  to  Palazzo  Vitali. 

He  was,  indeed,  in  the  mental  condition  of  one  who,  having 
decided  to  stifle  scruples  of  conscience,  becomes  reckless  from 
the  dread  of  any  longer  hearing  their  voice.  The  very  feeling 
that  Cristina  was  still  something  of  a  mystery  to  him — that  while 
she  roused  in  him  all  his  desires  there  was  yet  something  unknown 
and  intangible  about  her  which  repelled  even  when  it  attracted  him, 
added  to  his  passion.  He  longed  to  realise  this  unknown  element 
in  the  woman  who  had  that  evening  promised  to  give  herself  to 
him — as  a  traveller  presses  forward  to  explore  some  fresh  tract  of 
country  temporarily  hidden  from  his  view  by  the  windings  of  the 
road  he  treads. 

Sleep  had  come  to  him  at  last  with  the  early  hours  of  the 


188  TEMPTATION 

morning;  and  his  sleep,  very  unlike  that  into  which  he  had 
fallen  on  the  night  when  he  had  first  found  the  crucifix  on  his 
pillows,  was  untroubled  and  dreamless.  The  entrance  of  Taddeo 
with  hot  water  awakened  him  at  an  hour  when  he  would  gladly 
have  slept  on ;  and  the  hot  water  was  less  than  tepid  when  he 
finally  roused  himself. 

An  exclamation  of  dismay  from  the  old  servant  on  seeing  the 
crucifix  lying  on  the  table  where  Fabrizio  had  placed  it  caused 
him  to  raise  himself  in  bed.  Taddeo's  countenance  expressed 
the  liveliest  concern  and,  indeed,  horror. 

"  Santissimo  Dio  ! "  the  man  ejaculated,  at  the  same  time 
crossing  himself,  "  did  the  signore  find  the  cross  again  upon  his 
bed  ?  It  is  incredible  !  and  I  who  drove  the  nail  in  firmly  with 
my  own  hands  !  mah  !  "  and  he  shook  his  head  anxiously. 

Fabrizio  smiled  at  his  consternation.  He  was  not  going  to 
allow  his  own  superstitions  to  be  kindled  afresh.  "  Of  course  the 
crucifix  has  fallen  again,"  he  said  carelessly.  "  If  you  look  at  the 
wall,  Taddeo,  you  will  see  that  the  nail  has  broken  away  as  it  did 
before.  The  crucifix  is  heavy,  and  the  plaster  of  the  wall  will  not 
support  its  weight." 

Taddeo  looked  at  him  earnestly.  "  Signor  Fabrizio,"  he  said 
solemnly,  "the  wall  has  borne  that  Christ  for  forty  years  to  my 
knowledge,  and  I  believe  it  has  hung  there  ever  since  Donna 
Giulia's  days — may  her  soul  rest  in  peace ! "  and  he  crossed 
himself  again. 

"  In  that  case,  it  is  all  the  more  natural  that  the  crucifix  should 
fall  now,"  said  Fabrizio.  "  The  nail  was  probably  corroded  by 
age,"  he  added. 

"  How  corroded  by  age  ?  "  returned  Taddeo  indignantly.  "  It 
was  a  new  nail.  I  bought  it  myself  at  the  tinsmith's.  It  is  a 
brutto  augurio.  To  happen  once — well,  it  might  be  an  accident, 
perhaps ;  but  to  fall  twice,  after  so  many  years — "  and  he  shook 
his  head  again  despondently. 

"  Sciocchezze  ! "  exclaimed  Fabrizio  irritably.  "  You  can  leave 
the  hot  water,  Taddeo,  and  close  the  shutters  a  little,  I  am  sleepy 
still,  and  it  is  early.  You  can  bring  me  the  coffee  when  I 
ring." 


TEMPTATION  139 

Taddeo  obeyed,  muttering  to  himself  the  while.  He  lingered 
about  the  room,  and  more  than  once  took  the  crucifix  up  and 
examined  it  attentively. 

"  Signor  Fabrizio,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  as  he  opened  the 
door. 

"  Well  ?  "  Fabrizio  asked  drowsily. 

"  The  signore  will  pardon  an  old  man,  but  if  he  has 
any  enterprise  on  hand,  of  money,  love,  che  ne  so  io? 
— he  will  do  well  to  take  the  warning  and  abandon  it,  for 
it  will  end  ill." 

Fabrizio  turned  impatiently.  "  Storie  !  "  he  exclaimed  con- 
temptuously. "  You  can  see  for  yourself,  Taddeo,  what  caused 
the  crucifix  to  give  way." 

"Scusi — but  it  is  the  signore  who  will  see  for  himself  that  the 
nail  is  a  new  nail,  and  that  the  plaster  has  been  torn  away  by 
force  from  the  wall,"  and  returning  to  the  bedside,  Taddeo 
held  the  nail  out  for  Fabrizio's  inspection.  "It  was  hang- 
ing to  the  ring  of  the  cross,"  he  added,  "and  as  the  signore 
may  see,  it  is  all  bent,  as  though  it  had  been  torn  from  the 
wall." 

Fabrizio  looked  at  it,  and  saw  that  the  man  was  evidently  not 
mistaken. 

"  And  who  can  have  torn  it  from  the  wall  ?  "  he  asked,  half  of 
himself. 

Taddeo  looked  at  him  quickly,  and  then  he  crossed  himself. 
'•  Chi  sa  ? "  he  replied,  in  a  low  voice.  "  It  is  Donna  Giulia's 
room — I  myself  have  heard  her  walking  through  these  apart- 
ments  " 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "  Basta  ! "  he  said  scornfully.  "  As  to 
Donna  Giulia — she  has  been  dust  for  two  hundred  years  and 
more.  You  are  an  imbecile,  Taddeo,  and  I  want  to  sleep 
again." 

Taddeo  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Pud  essere^^  he  observed 
tranquilly  ;  "  but,  if  the  signore  is  wise,  he  will  not  proceed  in 
any  adventure  in  which  he  may  be  engaged.  Finirh  male"  and 
he  closed  the  door  behind  him,  repeating  the  words  '^finirh 
male ''  as  he  did  so. 


140  TEMPTATION 

The  desire  to  sleep  left  Fabrizio.  He  remained  thinking 
over  Taddeo's  words.  It  was  certainly  strange  that  the  crucifix 
should  have  fallen  a  second  time,  and  stranger  still  that,  as 
Taddeo  had  pointed  out,  it  seemed  almost  to  have  been 
wrenched  from  the  wall  by  some  physical  force.  As  to  Donna 
Giulia  having  anything  to  do  with  the  matter,  that  was  obviously 
absurd — a  piece  of  childish  superstition,  the  result,  no  doubt,  of 
tales  told  among  the  servants  concerning  her  pretended  appear- 
ances in  the  apartments  she  had  once  occupied.  Nevertheless, 
the  man's  evident  fear  of  some  imminent  misfortune  being 
foreshadowed  by  the  occurrence  revived  Fabrizio's  own  mis- 
givings. Nor  did  Taddeo's  warning  tend  to  diminish  his  uneasi- 
ness. Was  it  possible,  he  wondered,  that  the  old  servant  had 
some  suspicion  as  to  his  feelings  towards  Cristina?  That 
Taddeo  was  devoted  to  Ugo,  with  that  unswerving  devotion  to 
their  employers  often  to  be  found  among  dependents  in  Italy, 
Fabrizio  was  well  aware.  He  knew,  too,  that  Taddeo  was  by  no 
means  equally  devoted  to  Countess  Vitali.  On  one  occasion, 
Ugo,  half  amused  and  half  annoyed,  had  told  him  that  he 
believed  Taddeo  to  be  jealous  of  Cristina,  with  the  jealousy  of 
an  old  retainer  of  a  fresh  influence  brought  into  the  household. 
Count  Vitali  had  appeared  anxious  that  his  wife  should  not 
notice  that  Taddeo's  manner  towards  her  was  of  an  unvarying 
formality,  respectful  but  dry,  which  concealed  a  secret  dislike 
and  was  altogether  very  different  from  the  semi-familiarity, 
also  invariably  respectful — but  at  the  same  time  the  evident 
outcome  of  affection  and  esteem — of  his  attitude  towards  Ugo 
himself. 

On  further  consideration,  however,  Fabrizio  dismissed  as 
improbable  the  idea  that  Taddeo's  warning  had  been  uttered 
with  any  arriere  pensee  in  his  mind.  Taddeo  would  no  doubt 
himself  suspend  any  business  he  might  have  in  hand  had  he 
happened  to  find  a  cross  lying  on  his  bed.  Such  an  offering  to 
his  superstition  would  be  perfectly  natural  on  the  part  of  an  old 
man  brought  up  among  the  traditions  of  his  class,  and  a  devout 
believer  in  all  things  in  which  he,  Fabrizio,  had  long  ceased  to 
believe.     Moreover,  Taddeo  had  named  money  enterprises — and 


TEMPTATION  141 

not  those  of  love  only,  as  necessary  to  be  abandoned  in  defer- 
ence to  the  evil  omen — doubtless  under  the  impression  that 
a  young  man  was  tolerably  sure  to  be  engaged  in  the  pursuit 
either  of  the  former  or  of  the  latter  commodity,  if  not  of  both 
simultaneously. 

When  he  eventually  left  his  room  he  found  Countess  Vitali 
already  seated  in  her  usual  corner  of  the  terrace.  On  learning 
from  him  that  he  had  again  found  the  crucifix  lying  on  his  bed, 
Cristina  displayed  a  sudden  agitation  which  caused  him  no  little 
surprise,  and,  it  must  be  confessed,  no  little  satisfaction.  Her 
demeanour  was  very  different  from  the  mocking  attitude  she 
had  adopted  on  the  former  occasion.  She  seemed,  indeed,  to 
share  Taddeo's  view  that  this  second  fall  of  the  crucifix  could 
not  be  regarded  as  a  mere  coincidence,  but  rather  as  a  warning 
of  some  impending  calamity. 

It  was  Fabrizio  now  who,  in  his  efforts  at  once  to  re- 
assure himself  and  her,  mocked  at  the  idea  of  the  incident 
being  due  to  any  but  purely  natural  causes,  and  at  the  folly 
of  regarding  it  as  having  any  special  significance,  sinister  or 
otherwise. 

But  Cristina  was  not  easily  reassured.  A  cross  was  a 
cross;  and,  except  in  its  normal  surroundings,  a  sign  of  mis- 
fortune if  not  of  worse  things.  Fabrizio  reminded  her  that  she 
had  scoffed  at  him  only  a  few  weeks  before  for  having  had  the 
same  fears.  "  If  it  had  occurred  only  once,"  he  insisted,  "  we 
might  look  upon  it  as  a  bad  omen ;  but  the  same  thing  liaving 
happened  a  second  time  is  a  proof  that  the  fall  of  the  crucifix  is 
simply  due  to  natural  causes.  It  is  absurd  to  be  afraid,  Cristina, 
and  I  cannot  think  what  has  made  you  so." 

"You  have  made  me  so,"  she  replied  briefly. 

"I?"  returned  Fabrizio.  "But  have  I  not  been  telling  you 
that  it  is  ridiculous  to  be  so  superstitious  ?  " 

Christina  looked  at  him.  "  You  do  not  understand,"  she  said 
in  a  low  voice.  "  I  am  not  afraid  of  misfortune  for  myself—but 
for  us.  You  laugh  at  me  because  you  recollect  that  a  few  weeks 
ago  I  looked  at  the  matter  very  differently.  That  is  quite  true. 
But  since  then — "  and  she  paused. 


142  TEMPTATION 

"  What  has  happened  since  then  to  change  your  ideas  ?  "  asked 
Fabrizio,  smiling. 

"  Everything.  You  have  come  into  my  life — and  now  I  am 
afraid — afraid  of  anything  that  seems  to  threaten  us." 

Her  words  sent  a  thrill  of  pleasure  through  Fabrizio,  for  could 
he  need  a  fuller  admission  that  she  reciprocated  his  love  for 
her? 

"  You  are  not  like  Taddeo,  then,"  he  said  presently,  with  a 
smile,  "  you  would  not  advise  me  to  abandon  any  enterprise  in 
love  on  account  of  the  omen." 

Cristina  started.  "Did  Taddeo  say  that?"  she  exclaimed, 
frowning. 

Fabrizio  nodded.  "  For  a  moment,"  he  replied,  "  I  wondered 
whether  the  old  man  had  any  suspicions — but  I  am  convinced  he 
spoke  in  good  faith — for  he  coupled  money  enterprises  with 
those  of  love  as  threatened  with  ill-luck.  A  proposito,  Cristina," 
he  added,  "  do  you  know  the  history  of  that  crucifix  ?  Has  it 
hung,  as  Taddeo  evidently  believes,  in  the  same  position  ever 
since  Donna  Giulia's  days  ?  " 

"  That  I  cannot  tell  you — but  it  is  possible.  Very  little  has 
been  changed  in  Palazzo  Vitali  during  the  last  two  hundred 
years.  The  crucifix  is  undoubtedly  a  very  old  one,  and  it  has 
a  peculiarity  which  you  will  probably  not  have  noticed.  Ugo 
once  pointed  it  out  to  me." 

"  It  seems  to  be  like  any  other  crucifix,"  observed  Fabrizio, 
"a  painful  representation  of  a  barbarous  punishment.  But 
religion  seems  to  need  the  perpetual  contemplation  of 
horrors  ! " 

"  It  is  not  like  other  crucifixes,"  Countess  Vitali  replied. 
"The  Christ  has  his  eyes  wide  open.  That  is  quite  heretical, 
it  seems — so  much  so,  indeed,  that  in  the  eleventh  century,  a 
town  not  many  miles  from  here  ^  was  utterly  destroyed  and  its 
inhabitants  massacred  because  they  persisted  in  the  heresy  of 
representing  the  Christ  on  their  crucifixes  with  open  eyes.  Ugo 
will  tell  you  all  about  it ;  for  as  I  say,  I  derive  my  information 
from  him.  It  is  quite  likely  that  the  Vitali  possessed  one  of 
^  Ferento,  the  Etruscan  Firentinum,  the  ruins  of  which  still  exist. 


TEMPTATION  143 

these  heretical  crucifixes  taken  from  Ferento ;  but  Donna 
Giuha,  I  should  say,  would  hardly  have  ventured  to  hang  it 
in  her  bedroom,  as  she  was  so  closely  connected  with  a 
pope." 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "  What  an  edifying  story  ! "  he  observed ; 
"a  town  destroyed  and  its  population  murdered  because  the 
eyes  of  Christ  were  open  !  But,  after  all,  it  was  a  sensible  pre- 
caution of  the  priests  to  insist  upon  Christ  keeping  His  eyes 
shut." 

"  Altro ! "  said  Cristina  drily,  "  but  do  not  say  so  to  Ugo. 
Fabrizio,"  she  added  suddenly,  "  you  may  laugh  at  me  if  you 
choose,  but  I  wish  the  crucifix  had  not  fallen  again.  I  will  have 
it  removed  altogether  from  that  room." 

"  If  I  were  Ugo,  I  would  sell  it,"  observed  Fabrizio.  "  As  it 
has  the  peculiarity  you  speak  of,  some  Englishman  or  American 
would  probably  give  a  good  price  for  it.  I  should  declare  it 
belonged  to  some  famous  character  —  Lucrezia  Borgia,  for 
instance." 

Cristina  smiled.  "Why  Lucrezia  Borgia  particularly,"  she 
asked. 

"She  was  supposed  to  be  a  poisoner,  so  was  Donna  Giulia 
Vitali,  only  nobody  knows  about  Donna  Giulia.  I  imagine, 
Cristina,  Taddeo  firmly  believes  that  Donna  Giulia  placed  the 
crucifix  on  my  bed.  Poor  Donna  Giulia,  she  probably  only  did 
what  the  force  of  circumstances  compelled  her  to  do." 

Countess  Vitali  looked  up.  "  I  have  often  thought  that,"  she 
said. 

"  All  the  same,"  continued  Fabrizio  lightly,  determined  to 
distract  her  thoughts  from  dwelling  upon  evil  presentiments, 
"  I  shall  never  understand  why  she  did  not  poison  her  husband, 
and  continue  her  liaison  with  her  lover.  It  would  have  been 
more  natural.  She  must  have  been  a  weak  woman  to  allow  her 
husband  and  the  Maidalchini  to  frighten  her  into  playing  their 
game." 

"  A  weak  woman  ?  perhaps,"  said  Cristina  thoughtfully. 

"  There  is  certainly  something  mysterious  about  the  cardinal's 
apartments,"   continued    Fabrizio,    after   a   pause   during   which 


144  TEMPTATION 

Countess  Vitali  traced  patterns  with  the  point  of  her  parasol  on 
the  flagstones  of  the  terrace.  "One  feels  the  atmosphere  of 
the  past  in  them.  Do  you  know,  Cristina,  that  once  or  twice 
I  have  imagined  that  someone  laughed  close  beside  me,  when 
I  have  been  passing  through  those  rooms?  If  I  were  a 
superstitious  person,  and  believed  in  people  having  souls  and 
all  that  kind  of  thing,  I  might  fancy  that  the  laugh  came  from 
Donna  Giulia.  Unfortunately,  I  know  that  it  only  comes  from 
my  own  imagination,  for  I  heard  the  same  laugh  for  the  first 
time  in  a  bad  dream  the  night  of  my  arrival  here.  Of  course, 
as  I  was  not  very  well  then,  it  must  have  become  in  some  way 
impressed  on  my  memory." 

"You  never  told  me  that,"  Cristina  said  quickly. 

"No;  because  you  would  have  laughed  at  me,  as  I  should 
have  laughed  at  myself  had  I  believed  it  to  be  anything  else 
than  a  mere  trick  of  the  brain." 

"  It  is  strange  the  people  here  should  be  so  firmly  convinced 
that  Donna  Giulia  haunts  the  place,"  Countess  Vitali  remarked. 
"  I  should  hke  really  to  know  the  history  of  that  woman," 
she  added,  "the  history  of  her  inner  self,  I  mean.  Ugo  has 
some  old  letters,  I  believe,  relating  to  her  story,  but  I  have 
never  seen  them." 

"Perhaps  she  will  appear  to  you  some  day,"  said  Fabrizio, 
"  and  then  you  could  ask  her  to  explain  why  she  got  rid  of  her 
lover  instead  of  getting  rid  of  her  husband.  After  all,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  family  difficulties  were  dealt  with  simply  in  those  days — 
if  somewhat  crudely.  If  relatives  were  in  the  way,  they  were 
promptly  removed." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  quickly.  "Yes,"  she  said  with  a 
sudden  laugh.  "  If  we  had  lived  in  those  days,  you  and  I,  we 
should  have  poisoned  Ugo,  or  paid  some  bravo  to  assassinate 
him." 

Fabrizio  laughed  too.  "  Or  Ugo  would  have  done  the  same 
by  us,"  he  replied  lightly.  "On  the  whole,"  he  added,  "perhaps 
it  is  better  that  we  live  in  more  civilised  times,  and  that  we 
employ  lawyers  intead  of  bravi  to  settle  our  differences." 

Countess  Vitali  did  not  speak  for  a  moment  or  two,  but  her 


TEMPTATION  145 

eyes  were  fixed  upon  Fabrizio  with  an  enquiring  expression  as 
though  she  were  trying  to  read  his  thoughts. 

"Supposing  Taddeo  were  right,"  she  said  presently,  "and 
that  it  was  Donna  GiuHa  who  placed  the  crucifix  on  your  bed, 
that  her  spirit  has  been  near  us  all  the  time  ?  " 

"  Cristina  !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "  What  absurdities  have 
you  got  into  your  head  ?  It  is  all  very  well  for  Taddeo  to  have 
such  ideas,  he  is  an  uneducated  man,  and  from  his  earliest 
childhood  has  probably  heard  silly  tales  concerning  Donna 
Giulia.  Of  course  I  was  joking  when  I  said  just  now  that  perhaps 
she  would  appear  to  you  !  " 

"  I  wish  she  would  ! "  said  Cristina.  "  1  should  like  to  ask 
her " 

"  What  ?  "  demanded  Fabrizio,  as  she  paused. 

"  Oh,  many  things." 

Fabrizio  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  In  any  case,"  he  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "  I  do  not  suppose  you  want  to  take  Taddeo's 
warning  ?  " 

"  Do  you  want  to  do  so  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Giamniai !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio  emphatically.  "  Do  you 
think  me  so  weak  as  to  listen  to  such  nonsense,  nothing  would 
make  any  difference  now,  surely  you  must  know  that !  "  He 
glanced  up  at  the  windows  of  the  house  as  he  spoke,  fearful  of 
explaining  himself  further,  lest  his  words  might  be  overheard. 

"Nothing?"  asked  Cristina  abruptly.  "Whatever  might 
happen  in  the  future,  we  should  still  belong  to  each  other." 
She  dropped  her  voice  to  a  murmur. 

Fabrizio  leaned  forward.     "  I  swear  it ! "  he  replied. 

"  And  I — I  swear  it  also,"  and  Cristina's  eyes  flashed  as  she 
said  the  words. 

"And  so,"  Fabrizio  said  with  a  laugh,  raising  his  voice  again 
to  the  usual  pitch.     "  Donna  GiuUa  may  do  her  worst !  " 

"Her  worst — yes,  or  her  best,"  returned  Countess  Vitali 
ambiguously. 

"  And  Ugo  ?  "  Fabrizio  asked  suddenly,  "  he  is  out  as  usual,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  He  has  gone  to  mass,"  replied  Cristina.     "  To-day  is  a  festa, 

K 


146  TEMPTATION 

you  must  know.  Oh,  not  one  of  the  great  feste  of  the  Church, 
but  a  local  affair.  You  would  not  be  any  the  wiser  if  I  told  you 
the  name  of  the  saint  Viterbo  is  honouring  to-day.  Ugo  will  be 
back  before  breakfast-time." 

"  Then  we  shall  not  have  to-day  to  ourselves,"  said  Fabrizio, 
and  he  looked  at  her  meaningly. 

Cristina  shook  her  head.  "  Pazienza !  "  she  answered  with  a 
smile.     "Every  day  is  not  a  festa,"  she  added. 

"  But  my  days  with  you  are  limited  now,"  urged  Fabrizio. 

"For  the  moment.  But  early  in  September  you  will  come 
back,  for  the  vintage.  We  must  settle  that  matter  with  Ugo 
to-day,  so  that  it  shall  be  an  understood  thing.  You  have  never 
assisted  at  a  vintage,  of  course,  and  you  are  very  anxious  to  see 
one." 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "  Sicuro  1 "  he  replied,  "  my  country 
tastes " 

"  And  after  the  vintage,"  proceeded  Countess  Vitah,  "  comes 
the  autumn,  and  winter  is  not  far  behind  it.  And  in  winter  I 
shall  make  Ugo  bring  me  to  Rome." 

Magari  I  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "  But  how  will  you  persuade 
him  to  do  that,  Cristina  ?  " 

"  It  will  not  be  I  who  will  persuade  him." 

"  Who,  then  ?  "  Fabrizio  asked.  "  He  will  scarcely  be  persuaded 
by  me,"  he  added  drily.  "  There  would  be  something — well, 
original  in  the  situation.  No,  Cristina,  Ugo  is  simple,  unsuspect- 
ing, it  is  true,  but  he  is  hardly  so  simple  as  all  that.  Were  I  to 
say  more  to  him  on  that  subject  than  I  have  already  said,  he 
would  certainly  begin  to  wonder  what  my  motives  might  be  for 
taking  so  much  interest  in  his  movements  ! " 

Countess  Vitali  glanced  at  him.  "  It  seems,"  she  said,  "  that 
you  are  nearly  as  simple  as  Ugo  !  No,  I  should  not  think  that 
the  suggestion  would  come  any  better  from  you  than  from  me — 
and,  as  you  say,  there  would  be  something  decidedly  original  in 
the  lover  persuading  the  husband  to  take  such  a  step,  a  situation 
savouring  of  a  French  J>ockarde." 

"  But  who,  then  ?  "  repeated  Fabrizio.  "  I  do  not  under- 
stand." 


TEMPTATION  147 

"  Ma  I "  returned  Crlstina  with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders, 
"from  the  San  Felice.  Decidedly,  Fabrizio,  you,  too,  are  simple 
and  unsuspecting,  it  must  run  in  your  family  to  be  so  ! " 

"Not  always,"  retorted  Fabrizio,  smiling,  "the  husband  of 
Donna  Giulia,  per  esempio,  he  was  not  so  !  But  seriously, 
Cristina,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  believe  the  San  Felice  to 
have  more  influence  over  Ugo  than  yourself? " 

Countess  Vitali  laughed — a  hard  laugh. 

"  Do  I  think  it  ?  "  she  replied  sarcastically. 

"  But  I  remember  you  telling  me — the  day  when  the  duchessa 
called  here — that  her  friendship  with  Ugo  was  purely  platonic. 
To  be  sure,  what  you  told  me  afterwards  of  the  anonymous 
letter,  and  other  remarks  of  yours,  have  made  me  suspect  that 
you  yourself  do  not  believe  in  its  being  platonic." 

"I  told  you  as  much,"  interrupted  Cristina  almost  angrily. 
"  Of  course  I  do  not  believe  in  its  being  so.  The  San  Felice 
knows  very  well  that  I  do  not.  I  could  not  tell  you  all,  Fabrizio 
mio,"  she  continued  in  a  low  voice,  "  not  then,  but  now — well, 
now  our  interests  are  one.  You  can  understand  how  much  I 
have  had  to  endure  since  I  married  Ugo,  and  how  quickly  I 
realised  that  our  marriage  Avas  a  fatal  mistake." 

Fabrizio  looked  at  her  compassionately.  "Povera  la  mia 
Cristina  !  "  he  murmured.  "  Yes,  I  understand,  and  I  am  glad 
that  I  understand.  Shall  I  tell  you  why  I  am  glad?"  he 
added. 

"Yes,  tell  me  !  Tell  me  everything,"  said  Cristina 
eagerly. 

"  Because  the  knowledge  that  Ugo  has  not  been  faithful  to  you 
removes  the  last  of  my  scruples.  After  all,  what  right  has  he  to 
complain  if  you  pay  him  back  in  his  own  coin  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  understand.  I  am  glad,"  said  Countess  Vitali, 
simply  — and  her  eyes  expressed  the  rest. 

"I  wish  you  would  show  me  that  letter,  Cristina,  I  should 
like  to  read  it,"  Fabrizio  remarked,  after  a  pause. 

Cristina's  expression  changed,  and  she  gave  him  one  of  her 
rapid,  stealthy  glances. 

"  I  destroyed  it,"  she  said. 


148  TEMPTATION 

"  That  is  a  pity,"  observed  Fabrizio,  "  the  letter  might  have 
been  useful  some  day — one  never  knows." 

"It  was  foolish  of  me  to  destroy  it,"  Cristina  continued,  "but 
I  did  so  immediately.  After  all,  I  had  nobody  to  confide  in — 
nobody  to  help  me.  But  now — "  Her  voice  changed  suddenly, 
"  Here  comes  Ugo,"  she  said  quickly — and  at  that  moment 
Count  Vitali  appeared  at  the  end  of  the  terrace. 


CHAPTER  XV 

CRISTINA  VITALI  was  fully  conscious  that  she  had  succeeded 
in  establishing  her  influence  over  Fabrizio.  She  had  not 
been  unaware  of  his  struggles,  feeble  though  these  had  been,  to 
escape  from  the  nets  she  had  gradually  drawn  round  him  ;  and  his 
incapacity  to  break  through  their  meshes  had  given  her  a  sense  of 
satisfaction  and  security  in  her  power  over  him.  She  was  con- 
vinced that  the  fear  of  injuring  his  future  interests  was  the  only 
reason  which  had  caused  Fabrizio  to  hesitate  to  declare  his  passion 
for  her.  The  scruples  of  conscience  as  to  injuring  his  kinsman's 
honour  and  repaying  Ugo's  kindness  with  ingratitude  she  did  not 
for  a  moment  believe  to  have  any  real  existence.  They  were,  she 
told  herself,  mere  excuses  which  Fabrizio  advanced  in  order  not  to 
allow  her  to  think  that  his  only  real  scruple  was  lest  he  should 
compromise  his  own  interests.  That  her  lover  should  think  it 
worth  while  to  advance  such  scruples  filled  Countess  Vitali  with 
an  impatient  surprise,  since  they  were  of  a  nature  which  in  no  way 
appealed  to  her,  nor  could  she  understand  them.  This  being  the 
case,  she  had  contemptuously  dismissed  them  as  storie  which 
were  merely  put  forward  to  save  appearances  and  not  to  be  re- 
garded as  affecting  the  matter.  It  was  impossible,  she  argued  to 
herself,  that  Fabrizio  should  be  otherwise  than  envious  of  his 
cousin's  position,  and  that  his  mind  should  not  dwell  upon  the 
fact  that  chance  might  yet  place  him  in  that  position.  She  had 
shrewdly  suspected,  moreover,  that  Fabrizio's  original  motive  in 
visiting  Palazzo  Vitali  was  not  altogether  unconnected  with  a 
desire  to  improve  his  acquaintanceship  with  Ugo  and  to  ascertain 
for  himself  what  Ugo's  intentions  might  be  as  to  the  future  dis- 
position of  his  property  should  he  continue  to  be  childless.  That 
her  husband  had  in  the  past  invited  his  cousin  to  Palazzo  Vitali 
on  more  than  one  occasion  Countess  Vitali  knew;  and  she  was 
convinced  that  Fabrizio's  tardy  acceptance  was  only  due  to  the 

X4g 


150  TEMPTATION 

fact  that  now  nearly  three  years  had  passed  since  Ugo's  marriage 
and  no  children  had  appeared  to  oust  him  from  his  position  as 
his  cousin's  presumptive  heir.  It  had  not  been  difficult  to  make 
Fabrizio  admit  that  his  mind  occasionally  dwelt  upon  the  possi- 
bilities this  position  might  in  the  future  open  out  for  him.  This 
admission  had  in  itself  been  sufficient  to  convince  Cristina  that, 
whatever  he  might  profess  to  the  contrary,  Fabrizio  regarded  her 
husband  as  an  obstacle  between  him  and  a  state  of  life  which, 
compared  with  his  present  condition,  would  be  prosperity.  It 
had  been  part  of  her  plan  to  encourage  this  idea  in  the  mind  of 
the  man  who,  sooner  or  later,  she  knew  would  become  her  lover ; 
and  by  suggestions  more  or  less  subtle  and  concealed  beneath  a 
show  of  sympathy ;  by  scarcely  veiled  hints  as  to  his  being  far 
more  fitted  than  Ugo  to  possess  lands  and  money  and  to  be 
Count  Vitali  which  flattered  Fabrizio's  vanity,  she  believed  that 
she  had  done  so. 

She  was  aware  that,  at  all  events  during  the  first  few  days  of 
his  cousin's  visit,  her  husband  had  talked  to  him  of  her  when  they 
were  alone  together ;  and  it  was  evident  that  Fabrizio  was  con- 
vinced of  Ugo's  affection  for  her.  Such  a  conviction  was  un- 
desirable, and  must  be  removed.  Cristina  had  no  wish  to  appear 
as  a  woman  capable  of  deliberately  preparing  to  deceive  a  husband 
who  was  devoted  to  her.  She  preferred  that  Fabrizio  should 
regard  her  as  a  wife  whom  force  of  circumstances  obliged  silently 
to  submit  to  being  wronged.  The  thought  had  flashed  across  her 
mind  on  the  occasion  when  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  had  driven 
over  from  Villa  Falconara  a  few  days  after  Fabrizio's  arrival,  that 
it  would  be  amusing  to  lead  him  to  suspect  a  liaison  between  the 
duchessa  and  her  husband  to  which  she,  Cristina,  had  to  feign 
blindness.  Very  soon  she  had  come  to  see  how  this  pretended 
liaison  might  with  advantage  be  still  further  developed  and  in- 
sisted upon.  The  anonymous  letter,  by  which  Ugo's  marriage 
to  her  was  revealed  as  being  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  clever 
contrivance  on  the  part  of  the  duchessa  to  enable  Ugo  and  her 
to  continue  their  relations  without  scandal,  had  no  existence  save 
in  Cristina's  ready  imagination ;  but,  although  purely  visionary, 
it  had  served  its  purpose.     It  had  convinced  Fabrizio  that  his 


TEMPTATION  151 

cousin's  wife  was  to  be  pitied — and,  as  he  had  himself  told  her, 
it  had  removed  the  last  of  those  scruples  which  she  believed  to 
be  as  imaginary  as  the  letter  itself.  Fabrizio  would  henceforth 
listen  to  Ugo's  professions  of  marital  affection  with  his  tongue  in 
his  cheek. 

In  the  early  days  of  Fabrizio's  visit  it  had  been  an  amusement 
to  Countess  Vitali  to  exercise  her  powers  of  fascination  over  a 
newcomer.  To  exercise  them  over  Ugo  had  long  ceased  to 
interest  her,  and  Fabrizio,  after  all,  was  the  first  man  with  whom 
she  had  had  any  opportunity  of  becoming  intimately  acquainted 
since  her  marriage ;  for  she  did  not  regard  the  young  Viterbesi 
who  occasionally  came  to  Palazzo  Vitali  as  being  worth  her 
attention,  since  they  did  not  belong  to  the  world  into  which  she 
was  determined  some  day  to  enter. 

She  had  very  soon  begun  to  make  comparisons  in  her  own 
mind  between  her  husband  and  her  husband's  cousin,  and  the 
making  of  comparisons  under  certain  circumstances  is  apt  to  be 
a  dangerous  occupation.  The  hours  passed  in  the  latter's 
company  soon  became  hours  she  looked  forward  to  as  bringing 
with  them  a  welcome  change  from  the  limited  topics  to  which 
the  conversation  of  the  former  was  usually  restricted.  Moreover, 
the  difference  in  personal  looks  and  physique  between  Ugo 
Vitali  and  his  cousin  was  not  omitted  from  her  comparisons. 
No  two  rnen  could  have  been  more  unlike,  and  each  was  of  a 
type  looked  upon  with  favour  by  women,  though  more  rarely, 
perhaps,  by  the  same  women.  But  there  are  some  women, 
as  there  are  many  men,  who  are  attracted  by  change,  and  seek 
it ;  and  Cristina  was  one  of  these.  She  had  wearied,  both 
mentally  and  physically,  of  the  more  animal  type  as  represented 
by  her  husband,  perhaps  because  that  type  was  more  nearly  akin 
to  her  own;  whereas  Fabrizio,  in  form  and  features,  bore  the 
impress  of  greater  refinement  of  temperament. 

It  was  not  until  Fabrizio  had  displayed  evident  signs  of  a 
determination  to  bring  his  visit  to  a  close  and  to  return  to  Rome 
that  Cristina  realized  all  that  his  society  had  meant  to  her. 
She  looked  forward  with  impatience  and  weariness  to  resuming 
the  tete-a-tete  life  with  her  husband.     Yet  Fabrizio  could  not,  of 


152  TEMPTATION 

course,  remain  at  Palazzo  Vitali  indefinitely.  People  had,  no 
doubt,  already  begun  to  comment  on  the  duration  of  his  stay, 
for  the  ties  of  relationship  between  him  and  Ugo  were,  after  all, 
not  very  close.  He  certainly  could  not  form  the  third  of  a 
permanent  menage  a  trots  in  Palazzo  Vitali,  as  another  Vitali  had 
done  a  couple  of  centuries  ago  when  Donna  Giulia  Maidalchini 
was  in  the  place  which  she,  Cristini  Frezzi,  now  occupied.  Had 
Fabrizio  been  Ugo's  brother —  The  first  time  this  thought  had 
come  into  Countess  Vitali's  mind  in  the  course  of  her  meditations 
she  had  recoiled  from  it  with  a  sense  of  repugnance.  There  was 
something  sinister  in  the  connection  of  ideas.  The  lack  of  any 
high  standard  of  morality  on  the  part  of  Donna  Giulia  in  allow- 
ing herself  to  become  her  brother-in-law's  mistress  had  never 
greatly  concerned  Cristina.  It  was  no  doubt  a  somewhat  flagrant 
breach  of  rules  laid  down  for  the  well-being  of  society  generally, 
but  she  had  read  enough  of  the  medieval  doings  of  her  com- 
patriots to  know  that  they  were  not  in  the  habit  of  practising 
their  immoralities  in  any  half-hearted  or  scrupulous  manner. 
Donna  Giulia's  erratic  behaviour,  however,  had  led  to  unpleasant 
consequences  for  her  lover.  There  was  a  lurid  atmosphere  of 
crime  and  death  enveloping  the  whole  story.  Its  exhalations 
seemed  to  Cristina  to  reach  her  across  the  centuries  together 
with  the  thought  that,  strangely  enough,  she  found  herself  in  a 
position  somewhat  similar  to  that  in  which  Donna  Giulia 
Maidalchini-Vitali  had  found  herself  some  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  previously. 

Cristina  brooded  over  this  thought.  Fabrizio,  to  be  sure,  was 
a  distant  cousin  and  not  a  brother-in-law,  and  the  difference 
certainly  made  the  situation  less  scabrosa  than  had  been  the  case 
in  Donna  Giulia's  affair.  Nevertheless,  it  was  strange  that  at 
the  close  of  the  nineteenth  century  a  Countess  Vitali  should  find 
herself  in  a  position  similar  to  that  of  a  Countess  Vitali  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  She  wondered  whether  Ugo  resembled  in 
character  his  ancestor.  Donna  Giulia's  husband,  and  whether 
Donna  Giulia,  also,  had  fallen  in  love  with  her  brother-in-law 
through  force  of  contrast.  And  what  had  really  been  the  cause 
of  the  tragedy  which  ensued  ?     Donna  Giulia,  at  all  events,  had 


TEMPTATION  153 

been  clever  enough  to  issue  unharmed  through  it  all.  It  was  no 
uncommon  thing  in  those  days  for  a  guilty  wife  to  be  murdered, 
as  the  result  of  a  conseil  de  famille  ;  and  Cristina  called  to  mind 
the  story  of  the  Duchessa  di  Palliano,  and  other  well-known 
examples  of  such  summary  vengeance.  Had  Donna  Giulia,  she 
wondered,  continued  to  Hve  placidly  with  her  husband  after 
having  consented  to  put  her  lover  out  of  the  way  ?  As  Fabrizio 
had  more  than  once  observed,  why  did  not  Donna  Giulia  get 
rid  of  her  husband?  it  would  have  been  a  more  reasonable 
proceeding. 

During  the  last  few  weeks  Donna  Giulia's  story  had  possessed 
a  greater  fascination  for  Countess  Vitali.  Hitherto  she  had 
rarely  given  it  a  thought,  since  there  were  plenty  of  old  families, 
such  as  that  of  her  husband,  whose  annals  contained  episodes 
equally  grim.  Of  late,  however,  she  had  found  her  thoughts 
perpetually  recurring  to  the  mystery  surrounding  Donna  Giulia's 
crime.  There  seemed  now  to  be  a  link  between  her  and  the 
Maidalchini  woman  who  was  said  still  to  haunt  Palazzo  Vitali — a 
bond  of  sympathy.  She,  Cristina,  had  always  said  that  before 
condemning  Donna  Giulia  it  would  be  well  to  know  her  version 
of  the  story.  She  felt  now  that  she  was  beginning  to  understand 
some  of  Donna  Giulia's  difficulties,  and  perhaps  some  of  her 
temptations.  The  affair  of  the  crucifix  had  made  an  even 
greater  impression  on  her  than  she  had  admitted  to  Fabrizio — 
but  curiously  enough  she  did  not  regard  it  in  the  light  of  an  evil 
augury  for  the  newly-born  passion  that  had  arisen  between 
Fabrizio  and  herself.  She  looked  upon  it  rather  as  a  warning 
of  some  evil  threatening  to  befall  her  lover  from  which  she 
determined  that  she  would  shield  him.  If  it  ever  occurred  to 
her  that  she  herself  might  be  the  evil,  she  put  the  thought  away 
from  her — as  in  critical  moments  of  our  lives  we  are  all  apt  to 
put  away  from  us  thoughts  distasteful  to  our  frame  of  mind,  or 
antagonistic  to  a  cherished  project. 

Sometimes  Cristina  would  go  into  the  gallery  and  gaze  at 
Donna  Giulia's  portrait,  as  if  to  seek  inspiration  from  the  heavy 
eyes  drooping  in  a  smile  at  once  scornful  and  voluptuous. 
Formerly  she  had  scarcely  ever  given  the  picture  so  much  as  a 


154  TEMPTATION 

glance  in  passing  it ;  but  of  late  it  had  become  to  her  as  a  friend 
and  counsellor,  and  she  looked  at  it  with  far  more  interest 
and  attention  than  she  ever  bestowed  on  the  Madonna — a 
genuine  Tiziano,  and  one  of  the  few  pictures  remaining  in 
Palazzo  Vitali  of  the  Cardinal's  collection — which  Ugo  had 
caused  to  be  hung  in  her  bedroom. 

The  day  on  which  Fabrizio  had  recounted  to  her  how  he  had 
again  found  the  crucifix  lying  on  his  pillows,  Countess  Vitali 
had  spent  some  minutes  studying  Donna  Giulia's  face  as  it 
looked  down  upon  her  from  the  wall  of  the  gallery.  She  was 
thinking  to  herself  that  Donna  Giulia  and  her  lover  must  have 
managed  their  affairs  very  badly  not  to  have  been  able  to  carry 
on  their  intimacy  unknown  to  Donna  Giulia's  husband.  Suddenly 
a  thought  struck  her,  and  it  sent  a  thrill  through  her  body  like 
that  of  a  current  of  electricity. 

Donna  Giulia  never  could  have  married  her  lover,  supposing 
that  her  husband  had  died ;  but  she,  Cristina,  could  marry 
Fabrizio,  should  anything  happen  to  Ugo.  There  could  be  no 
possible  hindrance,  legal  or  ecclesiastical,  to  such  a  marriage — 
were  she  free.  The  idea  that  she  could  be  Fabrizio  Vitali's  wife 
had  never  before  suggested  itself  to  her.  She  had,  it  was  true, 
resolved  that  she  would  make  him  love  her,  and  in  pursuing  her 
object  she  had  found  her  own  affections  entangled.  She  had 
looked  forward  to  a  liaison  which  would  give  her  a  fresh  interest 
in  her  life ;  and  which  could,  with  ordinary  tact  and  prudence, 
be  carried  on  without  bringing  complications  in  its  train.  She 
had  determined  to  make  Fabrizio  useful  to  her,  and  had  looked 
forward  to  the  time  when  she  would  be  able  to  persuade  Ugo  to 
take  her  to  Rome  v/here  she  would  by  degrees  form  a  salon  and 
become  a  well-known  personage  in  the  society  of  the  capital. 
She  was  quite  aware  that,  to  be  successful  in  Rome,  it  was 
advisable  for  every  woman  to  have  at  least  one  lover ;  and  from 
his  conversation  she  believed  Fabrizio  to  be  far  more  in  touch 
with  the  inner  circles  of  Roman  society  than  was  actually  the 
case. 

As  she  looked  up  at  the  porcrait  of  Donna  Giulia  a  new  and 
hitherto  unconsidered  view  of  her  own  position  seemed  suddenly 


TEMPTATION  155 

to  be  as  it  were  thrust  upon  her.  Donna  Giiilia's  eyes  seemed 
to  convey  to  her  words  which  the  full  and  somewhat  coarse  lips 
from  which  age  had  stolen  the  redness  could  not  utter.  "  If  you 
were  free,  you  could  make  your  lover  marry  you — I  could  never 
have  married  mine  ! "  she  imagined  the  eyes  said  to  her — and 
Cristina  felt  the  blood  suddenly  tingle  in  her  veins.  The  words 
— if  you  were  free — seemed  to  ring  in  her  ears,  as  though  some 
voice  assuredly  not  her  own  had  spoken  her  thought  aloud. 

She  sat  down  in  a  heavily  gilded  arm-chair,  the  red  damask 
of  which  was  tattered  and  faded  here  and  there  to  a  pale  pink, 
that  stood,  one  of  a  long  row  of  similar  chairs,  beneath  the 
picture,  with  its  back  to  the  wall.  Not  a  sound  was  to  be  heard 
in  the  gallery,  nor  indeed  in  all  the  house — for  it  was  early  in 
the  afternoon  and,  herself  excepted,  probably  everybody  in 
Palazzo  Vitali  was  sleeping  through  those  hottest  hours  of  the 
day. 

"If  you  were  free."  The  echo  of  the  words  lingered  in 
Countess  Vitali's  brain,  causing  the  silence  in  the  deserted  rooms 
around  her  to  seem  still  deeper. 

Ah — but  she  was  not  free — she  had  no  prospect  of  ever  being 
free.  How  often  had  Fabrizio  not  reminded  her — when  she 
had  insisted  on  the  fact  of  his  being  his  cousin's  natural  heir  and 
successor — that  between  him  and  Ugo  there  was  little  difference 
of  age,  and  that  Ugo  was  a  stronger  man  than  he  ?  She  scarcely 
knew  why  she  had  dwelt  on  the  fact  so  persistently  to  Fabrizio, 
unless  it  were  in  order  to  make  him  look  upon  Ugo's  existence 
as  an  obstacle  to  his  own  happiness  and  to  the  complete  satisfac- 
tion of  his  passion  for  Ugo's  wife. 

Cristina  Vitali,  sitting  under  the  portrait  of  her  husband's  and 
lover's  common  ancestress,  in  a  chair  that  Donna  Giulia  Vitali 
had  no  doubt  often  sat  in,  knitted  the  low,  broad  brows  which 
caused  people  to  liken  her  to  a  woman  of  the  Ciociaria  and  lost 
herself  in  thought.  Presently  she  got  up,  and  moved  slowly  and 
mechanically — almost  as  though  she  were  walking  in  sleep — 
across  the  gallery,  placing  herself  in  the  chair  opposite  to  that  she 
had  just  occupied.  She  felt  as  if  she  must  sit  where  she  could 
see  the  picture  and   look  into  Donna  Giulia's  eyes.     And  the 


156  TEMPTATION 

eyes,  with  their  sHght  smile  of  mockery,  looked  into  her  own.  If 
anything  were  to  happen  to  Ugo,  she  could  marry  Fabrizio — that 
was  evident.  She  would  still  be  the  Countess  Vitali ;  but  she 
would  be  free  to  live  her  life  as  she  wished  to  live  it.  Fabrizio 
was  not  like  Ugo ;  he,  like  herself,  wished  to  live  in  the  world, 
and  to  get  something  out  of  the  world.  Fabrizio,  too,  had 
brains.  With  some  money,  and  lands,  and  a  title,  he  could  use 
his  brains  and  enter  politics — and  she,  Cristina,  could  help  him 
to  make  a  career.  He  might  even  become  a  minister  of  State — 
an  ambassador.  The  future,  brilliant  with  promise,  seemed  to 
unfold  itself  as  Cristina  pursued  her  train  of  thought.  She  saw 
herself  in  the  position  in  which  she  had  always  longed  to  be — 
always  intended  to  be ;  the  wife  of  a  prominent  man,  with  the 
world  at  her  feet. 

Suddenly  a  shadow  seemed  to  fall  across  these  visions  of  future 
success.  The  frown  on  Cristina's  brows  deepened,  and  her  face 
assumed  the  expression  of  one  striving  to  work  out  an  intricate 
problem. 

Would  Fabrizio  marry  her,  if  she  were  free  ?  Men  were  by 
no  means  always  ready  to  marry  their  mistresses  when  marriage 
became  possible.  Ay,  but  she  was  not  Fabrizio  Vitali's  mistress 
as  yet.  True,  she  had  promised  to  give  herself  to  him — and  that 
before  he  left  Palazzo  Vitali — but  the  irrevocable  step  had  not 
been  taken.  Would  she  not  be  a  fool  to  take  it?  Rather, 
should  she  not  sacrifice  her  desires  to  prudence,  and  bind  her 
lover  still  more  firmly  to  her  by  leaving  his  love,  at  least  for  the 
present,  unsatisfied?  The  world,  she  knew,  was  apt  to  senti- 
mentalise over  people  who  married  their  old  loves — but  to  assume 
a  very  diff'erent  attitude  towards  those  who  had  forestalled  the 
privileges  of  matrimony,  or  broken  its  already  existing  bonds. 
No  !  she  must  not  allow  her  inclinations  to  cause  her  to  commit 
a  folly.  To  go  slowly  was  to  go  safely,  and  Fabrizio  must  wait. 
He  must  also  bring  his  present  visit  to  Palazzo  Vitali  to  an  end 
without  delay,  odious  as  it  would  be  to  find  herself  again  quite 
alone  with  Ugo,  more  noioso  than  it  had  ever  been.  She  must 
have  time  to  think — to  shape  her  course,  and  to  see  how  matters 
turned  out.     Perhaps  Ugo  would  go  to  Rome  next  winter  after 


TEMPTATION  157 

all,  and  in  Rome  who  could  tell  what  might  happen  ?  At  Palazzo 
Vitali,  on  the  contrary,  a  chance  word  or  look  might  betray  both 
Fabrizio  and  herself,  and  Ugo's  suspicions  might  be  aroused  by 
some  busybody.  Fabrizio  must  certainly  go,  and  at  once. 
Otherwise  when  they  were  alone  together,  as  they  had  been  last 
night,  for  instance,  she  might  yield  too  soon. 

At  this  point  in  her  reflections  Countess  Vitali  made  a  sudden 
movement  of  impatience.  Soon — late — what  did  it  matter?  The 
obstacle  was  always  there — would  always  be  there,  unless  some 
unforeseen  chance  of  illness  or  accident  removed  it !  What  if  she 
were  to  be  prudent  only  for  nothing — and  if  Fabrizio,  indignant 
at  her  for  not  fulfiUing  her  promise,  were  to  return  to  Rome  and 
console  himself  elsewhere  ?  Why  could  not  fate  intervene,  and 
rid  her  and  Fabrizio  of  this  obstacle  to  their  common  welfare  ? 
Perhaps  Fate  would  intervene — but  when,  and  how?  And 
Cristina,  looking  across  the  room,  met  the  gaze  of  Donna  Giulia 
fixed  upon  her. 

"  You  were  not  prudent,"  she  said  to  herself,  addressing  the 
portrait  in  her  thoughts,  "  and  afterwards — well,  afterwards  Fate 
compelled  you  to  remove  an  obstacle  you  had  yourself  created, 
but  for  what  scope,  or  under  what  pressure,  after  all  these  years 
who  can  tell?  But,  all  the  same,  you  succeeded.  You  removed 
the  obstacle.  If  it  be  true  that  your  spirit  returns  here,  why 
cannot  you  tell  me  how  you  succeeded  ?  " 

She  rose  from  the  chair,  and  it  was  with  a  sensible  effort  that 
she  withdrew  her  eyes  from  a  gaze  which  seemed  to  her  imagina- 
tion to  enchain  her  own. 

A  clock  in  the  adjoining  room  struck  four;  and  Cristina  retraced 
her  steps  through  the  cardinal's  state  apartments  and  went  to  her 
own  rooms  previous  to  descending  to  the  terrace,  where  her 
husband  and  Fabrizio  had  said  they  would  join  her  before  driving 
to  the  old  Farnese  palace  of  Caprarola  which  Fabrizio  had  not  as 
yet  been  taken  to  see. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

^  riTTORIA  DI  SAN  FELICE  was  sitting  in  the  casino  on 
*  the  lake  at  Villa  Falconara,  ostensibly  occupied  in  deal- 
ing with  a  voluminous  correspondence.  Her  writing-table  was 
strewn  with  missives,  many  of  which  were  as  yet  unopened,  while 
a  large  dish  of  Oriental  china  standing  on  another  table  within 
arm's  length  of  her  chair  contained  some  half  a  score  of  letters 
she  had  already  written  since  beginning  her  morning's  work. 

It  was  an  understood  thing  that,  save  under  exceptional  circum- 
stances, the  duchessa  was  not  to  be  disturbed  in  her  retreat  by 
any  of  her  household.  Even  her  children  never  thought  of 
invading  the  casino  without  being  summoned  thither.  The 
telephone,  it  was  true,  connected  Vittoria  with  the  villa  and  the 
outer  world ;  but  there  were  occasions  when,  by  the  simple  ex- 
pedient of  placing  a  piece  of  cotton-wool  between  the  bell  and  its 
hammer,  she  would  render  that  instrument  powerless  to  annoy 
her. 

The  Duchessa  di  San  Felice's  interests  in  life  were  many  and 
varied.  Not  the  least  ainong  them  was  an  earnest  desire  to  see 
her  own  sex  exercising  a  wider  and  a  deeper  social  influence  in 
her  country  than  was  actually  the  case.  Many  of  her  friends, 
perhaps  the  majority  of  them,  were  apt  to  laugh  at  Vittoria  di  San 
Felice's  ideas  upon  the  subject  as  being  one  of  the  results  of  her 
Anglomania.  It  might  be  all  very  well  for  Englishwomen  to 
speak  on  public  platforms  and  generally  conduct  themselves  as 
though  they  were  men  masquerading  in  petticoats,  but  Italian 
women  were  different  from  Englishwomen  ;  and,  what  was  of 
even  more  importance,  Italian  men  were  diiferent  from  English 
men  in  their  attitude  towards  the  female  sex.  To  such  as  these 
Vittoria  did  not  trouble  herself  to  expound  her  views,  and  would 
content  herself  with  the  observation  that  no  doubt  every  nation 
had  the  women,  as  it  was  said  to  have  the  government,  it  deserved. 
153 


TEMPTATION  159 

Moreover,  for  certain  Englishwomen  she  had  met  during  her 
frequent  visits  to  England  who  thrust  themselves  before  the 
public,  using  religion  or  social  reformation  as  means  to  self- 
advertisement,  she  had  no  admiration  and  not  a  little  quiet  con- 
tempt. Their  profound  ignorance  of  the  very  problems  on  which 
they  were  so  ready  to  discourse  in  speeches  prepared  for  them  by 
some  obscure  dependent  had  been  speedily  revealed  when  she 
had  asked  them  a  few  simple  but  leading  questions  on  what  she 
had  been  informed  was  their  special  subject ;  while  in  the  case  of 
one  at  any  rate  of  the  lady-reformers  of  English  social  evils, 
Vittoria  had  enjoyed  some  opportunity  of  contrasting  the  prac- 
tices of  the  said  lady  at  Paris  and  elsewhere  on  the  Continent 
with  the  socialistic  theories  she  enunciated  with  such  aplomb  on 
English  platforms  and  to  interviewers  for  the  English  Press. 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice's  efforts  on  behalf  of  her  sex  in  her  own 
country  were  certainly  not  prompted  by  any  desire  to  gain 
notoriety.  In  common  with  an  ever  increasing  number  of  Italian 
women  of  her  own  class  she  was  anxious  to  contribute  towards 
the  raising  of  the  intellectual  and  social  status  of  Italian  women 
of  all  classes ;  to  aid  them  in  emancipating  themselves  from  being 
mere  machines  for  the  bringing  forth  of  children,  or  to  minister 
to  the  more  material  necessities  of  their  mankind.  Her  motive 
was  not  individual,  nor  even  entirely  feminine.  Rather,  in  a 
sense,  it  was  national.  To  pave  the  way  towards  making  the 
Italian  woman  more  of  a  practical  and  less  of  a  sentimental  factor 
in  the  social  life  of  her  country  was  an  ideal  which  formed  a  part 
of  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice's  patriotism.  According  to  her 
view,  many  of  the  shortcomings  in  the  average  Italian  character 
deplored  by  all  Italian  thinkers ;  the  want  of  discipline  and  self- 
control,  the  egoism,  the  widely  spread  materialism,  were  largely 
due  to  the  sentimental  traditions  which  forbade  women  to 
take  their  proper  place  and  exert  their  legitimate  influence. 
Vittoria  di  San  Felice,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  looked  upon 
with  some  suspicion  by  her  more  conservative  compatriots, 
and  also  by  the  high  authorities  at  the  Vatican.  These  last 
appeared  to  disapprove  of  any  expansion  in  the  sphere  of 
womanhood ;  nor  was  it  unnatural  that  they  should  do  so,  since 


160  TEMPTATION 

emancipation  of  women  in  a  country  as  yet  by  no  means  freed 
from  the  yoke  of  clericalism  would  in  the  near  future  give  to  that 
clericalism  a  death-blow  that  no  legislation  could  ever  succeed  in 
dealing. 

Vittoria,  however,  and  her  associates  continued  their  crusade 
unobtrusively,  but  none  the  less  effectually,  encouraged  by  the 
fact  that,  notwithstanding  repeated  douches  of  cold  water  from 
ecclesiastical  sources,  their  efforts  were  regarded  with  sympathy 
in  the  highest  of  official  and  intellectual  quarters,  and  by  the 
feeling  that  they  were  working,  however  slowly,  for  the  progress 
not  of  their  own  sex  alone,  but  also  for  that  of  their  country  and 
their  race. 

On  this  particular  morning  Vittoria  had  not  considered  it 
necessary  to  muzzle  the  telephone,  as  she  expressed  it,  since  she 
had  confined  herself  to  answering  the  letters  which  the  early  post 
had  brought  to  her  from  Rome  and  elsewhere.  She  had  just 
finished  writing  a  note  when  the  telephone  bell  rang,  and  a 
moment  afterwards  the  maggior-domo's  voice  informed  her  that 
Count  Vitah  had  called,  and  asked  if  the  signora  duchessa  would 
receive  him. 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  hesitated  for  a  moment  before  replying. 
A  morning  visit  from  Ugo  Vitali  was  certainly  a  departure  from 
the  usual  procedure  in  such  matters.  He  would  occasionally 
call  upon  her  in  the  afternoon,  should  he  be  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Villa  Falconara;  but  a  morning  visit  implied  some  more 
weighty  object  on  the  part  of  the  caller  than  a  desire  for  half  an 
hour's  ordinary  conversation.  What,  Vittoria  wondered,  had  Ugo 
Vitali  come  to  talk  about  ?  She  hoped  that  he  had  not  come  to 
talk  to  her  about  his  wife.  It  was  always  embarrassing,  she  added 
to  herself  a  little  cynically,  when  men  wished  to  talk  about  their 
horses  or  their  wives.  One  was  sure,  sooner,  or  later,  to  say  the 
wrong  thing  about  either  purchase. 

"  Tell  the  signer  conte  that  I  shall  be  happy  to  receive  him," 
she  replied  through  the  telephone. 

"In  the  casino,  or  in  the  house?"  demanded  the  maggior- 
domo. 

Vittoria  hesitated  again.     "Here,"  she  said  at  length,  "and, 


TEMPTATION  161 

are  you  there,  Giovanni  ? — ask  Miss  Wilson  if  she  will  be  so  kind 
as  to  come  to  the  casino  in  about  twenty  minutes'  time — not 
immediately,  you  understand — but  in  about  twenty  minutes. 
Meanwhile,  you  can  have  the  signor  conte  conducted  here." 

Vittoria  took  up  her  pen  again  and  proceeded  to  address  the 
envelope  of  the  note  she  had  just  concluded,  afterwards  placing 
it  in  the  china  dish  with  the  remainder  of  her  correspondence. 
Presently,  the  double  doors  of  gilded  bronze  dividing  the  room 
she  had  converted  into  a  sitting-room  from  the  entrance-hall 
of  the  casino  were  opened,  and  a  footman  announced  Count 
Vitali,  quietly  reclosing  the  doors  as  Ugo  advanced  towards  the 
writing-table. 

"  Good  morning,  Vitali,"  Vittoria  said,  easily,  as  he  bent  over 
her  outstretched  hand  and  kissed  it.  "  You  are  an  early  visitor, 
and  you  find  me  busy  with  my  letters.  You  will  excuse  my 
receiving  you  here  in  this  informal  manner  instead  of  in  the 
house?" 

"  I  was  riding  past  your  gates,"  Ugo  replied,  "  and  I  thought  you 
Ivnuld  forgive  me  if  I  ventured  to  call  at  so  unconventional  an 
hour  as  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

Vittoria  motioned  him  to  a  chair,  and,  leaving  her  writing-table, 
placed  herself  on  a  sofa  at  a  little  distance  from  him. 

*'  Had  you  become  bored  with  your  horse's  society  ?  "  she  asked, 
laughing. 

"  He  had  become  bored  with  mine,"  replied  Ugo ;  "  so  bored, 
indeed,  that  he  has  been  doing  his  best  to  get  rid  of  me  more 
than  once  this  morning.  He  is  a  young  horse,  and  he  bucks. 
But  seriously,  duchessa,  I  owe  you  an  apology  for  intruding  upon 
you  at  this  hour  of  the  day.  The  fact  is,  I  wished  to  take  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  you  personally  on  a  little  matter  of  business, 
and  of  ascertaining  your  views.  It  is  about  the  exchange  of  the 
land  at  Cetri." 

Vittoria  knitted  her  brows  pensively. 

"Your  agent  and  I  have  been  in  correspondence  about  the 
matter,  as  of  course  you  know,"  continued  Ugo;  "but  there  is 
the  question  of  the  drainage." 

"Caro   Vitali,"   observed   Vittoria   plaintively,    "what    can    I 

L 


162  TEMPTATION 

possibly  know  about  the  drainage  of  my  land  at  Cetri?  No 
doubt  I  ought  to  know  all  about  it,  but  I  was  never  taught 
drainage.     It  must  be  a  very  interesting  study." 

Ugo  Vitali  laughed  a  little  nervously. 

"  Naturally,"  he  said ;  "  it  is  a  technical  matter ;  you  could 
not  be  expected  to  understand.     It  is  a  question  of  levels." 

"Of  levels?"  repeated  Vittoria,  glancing  at  her  writing-table, 
and  her  letters  that  yet  remained  to  be  opened.  "  Everything  in 
life  is  a  question  of  levels." 

Ugo  stared  at  her.     "  What  do  you  mean,  duchessa  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I  mean,"  replied  Vittoria,  with  a  smile,  "  that  we  are  always 
trying  to  get  even  with  things,  and  that  we  seldom  or  never 
succeed ! " 

"  Ah,  that  is  true  ! "  said  Ugo,  with  a  short  sigh. 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  looked  at  him  quickly.  "  But  about  the 
drainage,"  she  observed.  "  You  really  must  not  expect  me  to 
have  any  views — indeed,  I  never  before  connected  drainage  with 
views.  In  my  ignorance,  I  had  merely  connected  it  with  the  sense 
of  smell." 

Ugo  Vitali  did  not  reply.  He  seemed  scarcely  to  have  heard 
her  remark,  and  was  apparently  gazing  thoughtfully  at  his  brown 
leather  riding-boots. 

"One  is  always  trying  to  get  even  with  things,  and  never 
succeeding,"  he  repeated  presently. 

Vittoria  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  It  is  a  question  of  levels," 
she  insisted  drily,  and  immediately  afterwards  regretted  her 
remark,  as  she  saw  her  visitor's  face  suddenly  flush. 

"What  did  I  say  to  myself  just  now?"  she  thought.  "He  has 
talked  of  his  horse,  and  he  is  going  to  talk  of  his  wife  ;  and  I  have 
said  the  wrong  thing  already  !  " 

"I  meant  to  say,"  she  continued  hastily,  aloud,  "that  we  are 
always  attempting  to  judge  people — for  of  course  it  is  people  who 
produce  what  are  alluded  to  as  '  things  '^from  our  own  level 
quite  forgetting  that  they  may  be  on  quite  another.  I  wonder," 
she  added,  "  what  '  things '  you  are  trying  to  get  even  with,  Vitali, 
apart  from  the  drainage  of  an  outlying  portion  of  my  property, 
ben'  inteso ! " 


TEMPTATION  IfiS 

Ugo  looked  at  her  hesitatingly  for  a  moment ;  then  he  seemed 
to  gather  confidence  from  the  duchessa  di  San  Felice's  steady, 
tranquil  glance  as  her  eyes  met  his  own. 

"It  was  all  nonsense  about  the  drainage,"  he  said  frankly;  "at 
least,  I  made  it  an  excuse  for  calling  upon  you  at  this  hour " 

"A  sufficiently  feeble  excuse,"  interrupted  Vittoria,  "inasmuch 
as  you  could  not  possibly  expect  me  to  believe  that  you  called  on 
me  with  the  object  of  discussing  the  subject.  I  must  say,  Vitali, 
that  I  think  you  might  have  chosen  a  more  plausible  reason,  if 
you  could  not  at  once  tell  me  the  true  one  ! " 

"You  are  right.  It  was  absurd  of  me  to  search  for  any 
excuse,"  returned  Count  Vitali.  "  But  I  want  a  woman's  counsel. 
Donna  Vittoria,  the  counsel  of  a  good  woman  who  is  also  a  good 
friend.     That  is  why  I  have  come  to  you." 

Vittoria  found  herself  wondering  whether  he  had  noticed  that 
he  called  her  Donna  Vittoria,  as  he  used  to  do  in  past  days, 
before  the  death  of  her  father-in-law,  the  old  duke. 

"  If  you  need  a  woman's  counsel,  you  should  seek  it  of  your 
wife,"  she  replied  a  little  coldly.  "Surely,"  she  added,  with  a 
smile  intended  to  soften  the  coldness  of  her  words,  "she  would 
also  be  a  good  friend  ! " 

Ugo  VitaU  laughed  drily.  "  Under  the  circumstances,"  he  said, 
"  I  could  hardly  seek  counsel  of  my  wife.  Will  you  read  this 
letter,  duchessa  ?  "  and  he  took  an  envelope  from  his  pocket-book 
as  he  spoke. 

Vittoria  shook  her  head.  "  I  would  rather  not,"  she  said.  "  If 
the  letter  contains  anything  about  your  wife,  I  would  rather  not 
read  it,"  she  continued. 

Ugo  Vitali's  eyes  gleamed.  "  Ah,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  suspect 
that  it  contains  something  concerning  my  wife!  Why  should 
you  be  so  ready  to  suspect  that?  Well,  you  are  right — but 
why  will  you  not  read  it  ?  are  you  not  a  good  friend  ?  you  have 
always  made  me  feel  that  you  were  so." 

"I  am  a  good  friend — yes — but  I  am  also  a  woman.  That 
is  why  I  will  not  read  the  letter.  You  may  show  it  to  another 
man  if  you  please — but  you  should  not  show  it  to  another 
woman." 


164  TEMPTATION 

She  glanced  at  the  envelope  he  held  out  to  her  as  she  spoke. 
"  It  is  an  anonymous  letter,  I  conclude,"  she  added,  contemptu- 
ously, "  and  evidently  written  by  some  uneducated  person.  No, 
Vitali — I  will  not  read  it ;  but,  as  you  wish  for  my  counsel,  I  will 
give  it  to  you.  Take  the  letter  to  your  wife  and  make  her  read 
it.  It  is  the  only  honourable  thing  to  do — unless,  indeed, 
you  would  not  be  wiser  to  tear  it  up  at  once  and  throw  the 
pieces  out  of  that  window  into  the  lake.  An  anonymous 
letter !  it  is  not  worth  while  thinking  a  second  time  about  such 
a  thing!" 

Ugo  looked  at  her.  "You  should  have  been  a  man,  not  a 
woman  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Nine  women  out  of  ten  would  have 
read  the  letter." 

"  Ten  men  out  of  ten  would  have  read  it ! "  retorted  Vittoria 
di  San  Felice.  "  You  do  not  know  enough  of  women  to  judge 
them.     Take  the  letter  to  your  wife." 

"  But  if  it  warns  me  that  she " 

Vittoria  stamped  her  foot  on  the  marble  floor.  "  I  will  not 
read  the  letter,"  she  interrupted,  "  and  I  forbid  you  to  tell  me 
its  contents.  Would  you  have  your  wife  think  that  you  trust  me 
more  than  you  trust  her?  It  is  altogether  an  absurd  thing  for 
you  to  trouble  yourself  about  an  anonymous  letter.  Some  day 
the  post  will  bring  one  to  your  wife  concerning  you ! " 

•'  But  it  affects  my  honour  ! " 

Vittoria  laughed.  "  That  is  the  usual  excuse  you  men  give  for 
making  idiots  of  yourselves,"  she  observed.  "  Does  it  not  affect 
your  wife's  honour,  per  esempio  ?  "  she  added  drily. 

"It  is  the  same  thing." 

"  Theoretically.  Practically  it  is  not  at  all  the  same  thing.  If 
it  were  so,  you  would  be  more  careful  of  it  than  to  play  into  the 
hands  of  an  anonymous  accuser  by  confiding  the  contents  of 
that  letter  to  a  third  person.  According  to  you  men,  a 
woman's  honour  consists  in  her  being  careful  to  preserve  her 
husband's  honour  intact.  She  has  none  of  her  own,  in  your 
view." 

"  But  to  confide  in  you  is  quite  different,"  said  Ugo  Vitali 
almost  sullenly.     "  You  have  always  been  different.     I  mean " 


TEMPTATION  165 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Vittoria  tranquilly,  as  he 
hesitated. 

"  I  mean,  different  from  any  other  woman  in  my  eyes.  How 
many  times  have  you  not  allowed  me  to  consult  you  when  I  have 
been  in  a  difficulty  ?  " 

"  About  a  horse  or  a  cow,  perhaps — or  even  about  one  of  your 
tenants'  wives — but  hardly  about  your  own  ! "  The  thought  was 
present  in  Vittoria  di  San  Felice's  mind  as  she  spoke  that  Ugo 
had  certainly  omitted  to  take  her  into  his  confidence  when  he 
determined  to  marry  the  daughter  of  a  sensa/e,  but  she  naturally 
kept  it  to  herself.  To  her  surprise,  and  somewhat  to  her  dismay, 
Ugo  Vitali  appeared  to  have  divined  her  thought,  for  he  said, 
after  a  pause  : — 

"  Do  you  know,  Donna  Vittoria,  that  of  late  I  have  often 
wished  that  I  had  consulted  you  three  years  ago — before  I 
married.  I  very  nearly  did  consult  you ;  but  you  were  away — 
in  the  Alps,  they  told  me — and  I  did  not  like  to  write  to  you 
about  my  own  affairs.  If  you  had  been  here,  I  should  have 
told  you  what  I  was  intending  to  do." 

Vittoria  was  silent.  It  was  the  second  time  that  he  had  called 
her  Donna  Vittoria,  and  the  name  seemed  to  her  to  convey  with 
it  an  appeal  to  her  sympathy — a  reminder  of  the  days  when  they 
had  been  on  far  more  informal  and  intimate  terms  with  one 
another  than  had  been  the  case  since  her  widowhood. 

"You  would  have  sought  my  counsel  too  late^ — when  you  had 
already  made  up  your  mind,"  she  said  slowly. 

"  No,  if  I  had  been  able  to  see  you,  I  should  have  asked  you 
whether  you  thought  I  was  about  to  make  a  great  mistake." 

"Why  should  you  have  supposed  that  I  could  be  any  judge?" 
asked  Vittoria  coldly.  "  I  could  not  possibly  be  a  judge,"  she 
added  hastily,  **  and  in  any  case  it  is  too  late  to  discuss  the 
subject." 

"I  have  often  wondered  what  your  advice  would  have  been,' 
persisted  Count  Vitali. 

"  I  do  not  suppose  that  I  should  have  presumed  to  offer  any 
advice,"  returned  Vittoria,  "  but  if  I  had,  you  would  probably  not 
have  taken  it.     When  people  are  in  love  they  do  not  listen  to 


166  TEMPTATION 

advice,  even  if  they  think  it  necessary  to  ask  for  it.  Del  resto, 
you  have  come  here  to-day  to  ask  my  advice,  but  you  have  not 
the  shghtest  intention  of  acting  by  it." 

"  Because  you  ask  me  to  do  an  impossible  thing,"  replied 
Ugo,  "or,  at  any  rate,  a  useless  thing.  If  I  took  this  letter  to 
Cristina  she  would  of  course  swear  that  its  contents  were  entirely 
false." 

"And  why  should  you  not  believe  her?"  asked  Vittoria 
abruptly. 

Ugo  hesitated.  "I  do  not  know,"  he  said,  "except  that — " 
and  he  paused. 

"  I  think  that  you  should  believe  her,"  "Vittoria  said  gravely, 
"or  that  you  should  at  least  let  her  see  that  you  intend  to 
believe  her.  It  is  much  harder  for  a  woman  to  continue  to 
deceive  a  man  who  insists  upon  placing  his  full  confidence 
in  her,  than  it  is  for  her  to  deceive  a  man  who  allows  her 
to  suspect  he  distrusts  her.  I  do  not  know  what  that  letter 
contains,  and  I  do  not  intend  to  know,  as  I  have  told  ypu ;  but 
I  should  certainly  advise  you  not  to  allow  so  contemptible  a 
thing  as  an  anonymous  letter  to  come  between  you  and  your 
wife.  You  do  not  live  in  the  world,  my  friend, — if  you  did,  you 
would  know  that,  at  any  rate  in  our  Italian  world,  the  sending 
of  anonymous  letters  is  a  favourite  form  of  mischief-making. 
After  all,  you  say  yourself  that  you  do  not  know  why  you  should 
not  believe  your  wife's  word." 

"  Except  that  she  no  longer  cares  for  me  as  she  used  to  do. 
I  have  begun  to  realise  that." 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  looked  at  him  in  silence.  "You  have 
begun  to  realise  that  you  have  made  a  mistake,"  she  said  to 
herself. 

"Adagio,  Vitali;  let  us  reason  a  little!"  she  said  at  length, 
lightly.  "You  jump  too  quickly  to  conclusions.  Has  it 
never  struck  you  that  it  is  possible  your  wife  may  be  dis- 
appointed ?  " 

"Altro!"  exclaimed  Ugo  eagerly,  "I  have  always  thought 
that,  had  she  had  a  child,  things  would  have  been  very  different. 
It  is  very  strange,  you  know,  there  is  nothing  whatever  to  account 


TEMPTATION  167 

for  it — Conradi  at  Viierbo  has  declared  as  much  several  times. 
It  is  a  coincidence — a  disgrazia.  Moreover,  it  is  certainly  no 
fault  of  mine." 

"  I  should  imagine  not,"  observed  the  duchessa  di  San  Felice 
with  a  scarcely  perceptible  smile.  "  But  I  was  not  alluding  to 
the  disappointment  of  not  having  children,"  she  continued. 
"It  is  possible  that  your  wife  may  be  disappointed  in  other 
ways." 

Ugo  opened  his  eyes  more  widely.  "  In  what  other  ways  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  She  has  everything  she  can  want.  It  is  not  as  if 
I  had  taken  her  from  some  prince's  palace  in  Rome." 

"If  you  had  done  that,"  remarked  Vittoria,  "she  would 
probably  have  been  quite  contented  to  lead  your  life,  otherwise 
she  would  not  have  married  you." 

"  Then  you  think  that  Cristina  is  not  contented  with  the  life  I 
have  given  her — quite  apart  from  the  question  of  children,  I 
mean." 

"  Possibly.  She  is  young,  and  she  is  good-looking.  Also,  she 
is  a  woman." 

"  Che  vuol  dire  ?  " 

Vittoria  laughed.  "Caro  Vitali,"  she  replied,  "it  means — 
everything !  What  were  we  saying  just  now  ?  that  we  were  apt 
to  regard  everybody  else  as  being  on  our  own  level.  Well,  you 
are  regarding  your  wife  as  though  she  were  on  your  level,  and 
she  is  not — I  mean,  of  course,  psychologically.  The  things  that 
interest  you,  bore  her.  A  woman,  when  she  marries,  usually 
does  so  under  the  impression  that  her  whole  life  is  going  to  be 
changed.  That  is  an  impression  quite  independent  of  any  sexual 
influence.  It  is  engrained  in  the  female  nature  by  hereditary 
transmission  of  ancient  tribal  customs  dating  from  God  knows 
when  1 " 

"  Duchesc.a  ! "  exclaimed  Ugo,  "  per  carita  !  when  you  begin 
to  talk  of  these  things,  you  know  that  I  cannot  follow  you. 
Besides,  I  never  know  when  you  are  speaking  seriously,  and  when 
you  are  only  laughing  at  me." 

"  I  am  quite  serious.  When  your  wife  brought  you  her  cow 
and  a  possible  goat  or  two,  she  was  under  the  impression  that 


168  TEMPTATION 

she  also  would  acquire  additional  social  importance  from  the 
number  of  enemies'  heads  you  had  hanging  up  in  your  dwelling. 
But  you  have  kept  her  cow  and  her  goats,  and  you  have  not 
allowed  her  to  show  your  heads  to  her  neighbours — a  thing 
which  of  course  every  woman  likes  to  do." 

Count  Vitali  smiled.  "I  understand,"  he  said.  "But  as  to 
the  cow  and  the  goats,  my  wife  and  I  are  quits  there — for  Frezzi 
kept  them,  as  I  daresay  you  have  heard.  You  think,  then, 
that  I  shut  Cristina  up  too  much — that  I  should  take  her  to 
Rome?  But  you  forget,  duchessa.  She  was  not  noble,  and  I 
do  not  care  to  expose  my  wife  to  the  possibility  of  certain 
humiliations." 

"She  is  the  Contessa  Vitali,"  interrupted  Vittoria,  "and  you 
are  too  old-fashioned  in  your  ideas,  my  friend.  The  ridiculous 
prejudices  you  allude  to  are  fast  dying  out,  even  in  Italy.  I  am 
afraid  that  our  nobility  itself  has  taught  people  to  regard  it  as  a 
parasite  to  be  got  rid  of,  rather  than  as  a  caste  of  which  to  be 
proud — though,  thank  God,  there  are  still  many  exceptions  among 
us.  No,  you  do  not  seem  to  have  taken  into  account  that  your 
wife  may  be  ambitious ;  that  in  marrying  you  she  looked  forward 
to  escaping  from  her  former  life  and  taking  her  position  as  the 
Countess  Vitali  in  the  great  world.  Instead  of  which,  she  has 
found  herself  thrown  upon  her  own  resources  in  a  provincial 
town." 

"  If  that  be  so,  she  did  not  marry  me  for  myself,  but  for  what 
she  imagined  the  marriage  would  bring  her,"  said  Ugo. 

"  Probably  she  married  you  for  both  reasons.  Did  I  not  tell 
you  just  now  that  a  woman's  innate  desire  to  change  her  con- 
ditions of  life  by  marriage  is  often  quite  independent  of — well,  of 
other  things  ?  If  she  can  gratify  at  the  same  time  that  desire, 
and  others,  she  has  probably  made  what  is  called  a  happy 
marriage." 

"You  were  always  much  too  clever  for  me,  Donna  Vittoria," 
said  Ugo,  looking  at  her  with  a  smile,  "  but  even  I  can  understand 
the  drift  of  your  arguments.  You  are  reproving  me  for  not 
allowing  my  wife  to  go  into  what  is  called  the  world.  But  what 
is  she  going  to  get  out  of  the  world  ?  " 


TEMPTATION  169 

"What?  Why,  wl>at  every  woman  longs  for,  admiration. 
She  will  get  plenty  of  it,  and  she  knows  it." 

"  Precisely.  And  you  advise  me  deliberately  to  expose  her 
to  that,  when — oh,  I  am  going  to  be  quite  open  with  you 
— when  I  have  every  reason  to  think  that  she  no  longer  cares 
for  me  ?  Of  course  she  would  find  plenty  of  admiration,  and 
plenty  of  men  ready  to  make  love  to  her." 

"  Of  course.  But  there  is  always  safety  in  numbers.  It  is 
when  a  woman  eager  for  admiration  is  constantly  thrown  in  the 
society  of  one  admirer  that  danger  is  to  be  apprehended." 

Vittoria  spoke  carelessly  enough,  rising  from  her  chair  as 
she  did  so  to  re-arrange  some  flowers  on  a  little  table  near  her. 
Her  visitor  did  not  answer  her  observation,  and  by  his  silence 
she  hoped  that  her  hint  had  not  been  lost  upon  him.  The 
thought  was  a  relief  to  her  mind,  for  she  had  determined  to  give 
him  the  hint  on  the  first  favourable  opportunity,  and  she  had 
often  wondered  how  she  should  frame  it  so  as  to  appear  neither 
untimely  nor  offensive. 

"  Yes,"  she  continued,  in  a  more  earnest  tone,  "  if  I  were  you, 
Vitali,  I  should  certainly  take  your  wife  to  Rome  next  winter — 
and  I  should  certainly  show  that  letter  to  her,  and  to  nobody 
else.  Whatever  may  be  written  in  it,  I  do  not  for  a  moment 
suppose  to  be  true.  But  even  were  its  contents  true,  wholly  or  in 
part,  it  is  an  evil  nature  that  does  not  respond  to  a  generous 
confidence — and,  believe  me,  many  women,  and,  for  all  I  know, 
many  men  have  been  saved  in  the  hour  of  temptation  by  feeling 
that  the  person  they  were  about  to  wrong  trusted  them." 

Ugo  Vitali  looked  at  her  in  silence  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
replaced  the  letter  in  his  pocket-book.  "I  daresay  you  are 
right,"  he  said,  "  and  I  will  take  the  letter  to  Cristina.  As  you 
say,  it  is  an  evil  nature  that  does  not  respond  to  confidence.  As 
to  next  winter — c'e  tempo.  Many  things  may  happen  before  then, 
and  I  may  see  my  way  more  clearly  than  I  do  at  present.  I  am 
glad  I  came  to  you  this  morning,  duchessa— a  thousand  thanks 
for  receiving  me." 

**  Will  you  not  stop  to  breakfast,  and  see  the  children  ?  "  asked 
Vittoria.     "Ah,"    she  exclaimed,    as   a   slight  tap  on  the  door 


170  TEMPTATION 

interrupted  her.  "  Here  is  their  governess — she  was  to  come  to 
me  at  twelve  o'clock.  Come  in,  please,  Miss  Wilson  !  you  know 
Count  Vitali.  And  you  will  not  stay  to  breakfast,  Vitali — no  ? 
Well,  Miss  Wilson  and  I  will  come  to  see  you  mount  your  buck- 
jumper,"  and  taking  up  a  parasol  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  led 
the  way  from  the  casino  to  the  stables  where  Ugo's  horse  had 
been  put  up,  talking  alternately  in  Italian  and  English  to  her 
companions. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

'T^HE  letter  which  Ugo  Vitali  had  received,  though  obviously 
•^  written  by  an  uneducated  person,  was  guarded  enough  in 
its  language.  It  warned  Count  Vitali  that  he  would  be  wise  to 
watch  his  wife's  movements,  as  his  honour  and  the  honour  of 
Casa  Vitali  were  in  danger.  The  document  was,  of  course, 
unsigned ;  and,  save  for  the  Roman  postmark,  bore  no  clue  as 
to  its  origin.  Ugo  had  received  it  by  the  afternoon  post,  the 
day  after  the  expedition  to  Caprarola,  and  had  spent  a  disturbed 
night  in  consequence. 

His  first  sensation  on  reading  the  letter  had  been  one  of 
indignation  that  anyone,  of  however  obscure  or  insignificant  a 
position,  should  dare  to  send  him  such  a  missive  ;  and  his  first 
impulse  was  to  tear  it  up  contemptuously  and  determine  to  dismiss 
it  from  his  mind.  He  found  himself,  however,  unable  so  to 
dismiss  it. 

What  if  Cristina's  capricious,  and  sometimes  irritable  moods, 
and  the  change  that  had  come  over  her  during  the  last  months, 
were  due — not,  as  he  had  always  assured  himself,  to  her  dis- 
appointment at  having  no  children,  but  to  the  fact  that  she  no 
longer  cared  for  him  but  did  care  for  some  other  man  ?  Ugo 
read  and  re-read  the  letter.  He  thought  of  all  the  men  with 
whom  his  wife  had  been  brought  into  contact  since  he  had 
married  her.  They  were  not  numerous,  and  belonged  exclusively 
to  that  small  society  which  existed  in  and  around  Viterbo.  He 
could  not  call  to  mind  any  one  of  them  in  whom  Cristina  had  ever 
displayed  any  particular  interest.  He  had,  indeed,  often  heard 
her  sneer  at  the  provincialism  of  those  young  men  who  would 
occasionally  call  at  Palazzo  Vitali ;  and,  with  the  exception  of  his 
cousin  Fabrizio,  she  had  not  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  any 
others.  It  was  absurd,  he  told  himself,  to  think  of  Fabrizio  in 
connection  with    this    anonymous    warning.        The    two    were 

171 


172  TEMPTATION 

excellent  friends,  as  they  might  have  been  were  Fabrizio  his  brother 
instead  of  his  cousin.  Since  Fabrizio  had  been  with  them, 
moreover,  Cristina  had  certainly  been  less  irritable,  and  appar- 
ently altogether  more  contented  with  her  life  than  before — and  he, 
Ugo,  had  been  glad  that  the  two  should  discuss  together  things 
in  which  he  could  not  pretend  to  take  any  interest.  Could  it  be, 
he  wondered,  that  there  was  someone  for  whom  Cristina  had 
cared  before  she  married  him — and  who,  in  some  way  unknown  to 
him,  had  come  again  into  her  life  ? 

The  more  he  pondered  over  the  matter,  the  more  undecided  he 
felt  as  to  whether  he  should  destroy  the  letter  and  endeavour  to 
forget  its  contents,  or  whether  he  should  act  in  accordance  with 
the  advice  it  gave  him.  In  the  midst  of  his  reflections  he  thought 
of  the  Uuchessa  di  San  Felice.  Sicuro !  Donna  Vittoria  was  a 
loyal  friend,  both  to  himself  and  to  Cristina.  She  was  also  a 
woman  of  the  world,  tactful  and  prudent,  who  could  be  relied 
upon  not  to  make  mischief  or  to  give  him  anything  but  sound 
and  sensible  advice.  He  would  take  the  letter  to  Donna 
Vittoria,  as  he  always  called  her  in  his  thoughts — and  would  hear 
what  she  had  to  say  about  it.  He  more  than  suspected  that  the 
duchessa  had  some  intuition  as  to  the  state  of  affairs  which  had 
grown  up  during  the  last  year  or  so  between  Cristina  and  himself 
Donna  Vittoria  at  all  events  knew  that  Cristina  took  little  or  no 
interest  in  those  country  pursuits  and  duties  which  formed  his 
life,  for  he  himself  had  admitted  as  much  to  her  on  more  than 
one  occasion  when  the  duchessa  had  half  laughingly  reminded 
him  that,  now  he  had  married,  it  was  his  wife  whom  he  should 
consult,  and  not  herself. 

The  thought  that  within  a  few  miles  of  him  was  an  old 
friend  in  whom  he  could  confide  his  difficulty  did  much  to 
soothe  Count  Vitali's  troubled  mind.  To  take  the  letter  at 
once  to  Cristina  scarcely  occurred  to  him ;  or  occurred  to  him 
OHly  as  a  thought  to  be  immediately  dismissed  as  impracticable. 
He  shrank  instinctively  from  doing  anything  that  might  cause 
the  breach  between  them,  which  had  appeared  of  late  to  be 
somewhat  reduced,  to  widen  again.  Donna  Vittoria,  with  her 
sound  judgment,  her  knowledge  of  her  own  sex,  and  her  utter 


TEMPTATION  173 

disregard  for  gossip  or  scandalmongering,  would  certainly  be 
able  to  point  out  the  wisest  course  for  him  to  pursue.  Very 
likely  the  letter  was  merely  an  impudent  attempt  of  an  evilly- 
disposed  individual  anxious  to  make  mischief  between  him  and 
his  wife ;  or  it  might  be  the  work  of  some  impostor  who  would 
follow  it  up  with  other  letters  asking  for  money.  But  if  there 
were  anything — if- — well,  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice,  the  friend  of 
his  early  youth,  would  surely  be  a  better  counsellor  than  any 
other.  At  least  she  would  not  fly  off  and  tell  all  Viterbo  that 
Count  Vitali  had  received  an  anonymous  letter  hinting  at 
unfaithfulness  on  the  part  of  his  wife.  And  so  that  evening  Ugo 
Vitali  had  kept  his  own  counsel ;  and  if  he  had  been  silent  and 
preoccupied  neither  Cristina  nor  Fabrizio  had  noticed  the  fact. 
The  following  morning  he  had  ridden  about  his  property  as 
usual,  choosing  as  a  mount  a  young  horse — a  recent  purchase — 
that  needed  all  his  patience  and  skill  to  ride,  accustomed  as  he 
had  been  from  childhood  to  the  saddle.  He  had  chosen  the 
animal  purposely,  feeling  that  in  the  management  it  would 
require  he  would  find  a  means  of  escape  from  his  own  thoughts. 
The  object  necessitating  his  morning's  inspection  of  various 
portions  of  his  land  being  completed,  to  pay  a  visit  to 
the  mistress  of  Villa  Falconara  had  seemed  a  comparatively 
simple  affair  until  he  found  himself  within  a  kilometre  or  so 
of  his  destination,  and  saw  the  woods — once  a  portion  of  that 
mysterious  Ciminian  forest  so  long  believed  by  the  ancient 
Romans  to  form  an  impassable  barrier  between  themselves  and 
the  rich  Etruscan  cities  on  its  further  confines — which  surrounded 
the  villa  standing  in  their  midst  on  the  hill  above.  As  he 
approached  Donna  Vittoria's  home,  however,  his  task  seemed 
gradually  to  assume  a  more  complicated  nature.  For  some 
reason  he  could  not  explain  to  himself,  he  felt  that  it  would  not 
be  so  easy  as  he  had  imagined  to  take  the  Duchessa  di  San 
Felice  into  his  confidence.  An  uncertainty  arose  in  his  mind  as 
to  whether  she  would  allow  him  to  confide  so  intimate  a  matter 
to  her,  and  whether  she  might  not  resent  his  attempt  to  obtain 
her  advice  as  presuming  too  much  upon  her  friendship  towards 
him.     It  had  been  this  feeling  which  had  caused  Ugo  to  search 


174  TEMPTATION 

for  an  excuse  for  calling  at  Villa  Falconara  before  mid-day ;  an 
excuse  of  which  the  duchessa  had  exposed  the  flimsiness  almost 
as  soon  as  he  had  made  it. 

Ugo  Vitali  had  certainly  not  anticipated  any  such  counsel 
from  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  as  that  which  she  actually  gave 
him.  He  did  not,  indeed,  altogether  know  what  he  did  expect 
of  Donna  Vittoria,  unless  it  were  her  sympathy.  Different  as 
their  lives  were,  Ugo  felt  that  she  had  always  understood  him, 
and  that  she  had  never  regarded  him  as  merely  a  campagnuolo 
with  no  aims  and  objects  beyond  those  of  gathering  in  his  crops 
or  breeding  serviceable  stock.  He  knew  that  she  understood, 
and  shared,  that  almost  passionate  devotion  to  the  country,  and 
to  the  things  animate  and  inanimate  of  the  country,  which  was  a 
part  of  his  nature.  This  love  for  the  country  had  been  the 
earliest  link  between  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  and  himself,  and  had 
formed  the  foundation  of  their  friendship.  It  is  a  love  all  too 
rare  among  Italians  generally ;  nevertheless  it  is  occasionally  to 
be  found  among  individuals  of  all  classes  in  Italy. 

Not  the  least  bitter  part  of  the  gradual  process  of  destruction 
to  which  his  illusions  concerning  Cristina  had  lately  been 
subjected  was  the  knowledge  that  she  was  incapable  of  under- 
standing his  nature,  or  of  sharing  his  interests.  During  the 
first  year  of  their  married  life  this  want  of  harmony  had  not 
struck  him  so  forcibly  as  it  had  since  done.  He  was  beginning 
to  suspect  that  Cristina,  in  those  days,  had  feigned  an  interest 
which  in  reality  had  never  existed,  and  this  suspicion  had 
increased  as  time  went  on  until  it  had  become  almost  a  certainty. 
He  had  begun  to  realise  that  Cristina  had  married  him  not  for 
himself,  but  because  he  was  Count  Vitali,  a  man  who  could  give 
her  a  position  in  the  world,  and  who,  as  she  had  thought,  was  of 
the  world.  This  suspicion,  more  perhaps  than  anything  else, 
had  aroused  in  Ugo  Vitali  all  that  obstinacy  of  character  which 
had  been  accentuated  by  the  narrow  surroundings  amid  which 
he  had  been  brought  up  from  his  earliest  infancy.  He  had 
determined  that  he  would  be  deaf  to  his  wife's  repeated  sugges- 
tions as  to  the  necessity  of  changing  their  mode  of  life.  When 
he    had  offered    himself  as   a  husband   for   Cristina,   he    had 


TEMPTATION  175 

explained  his  position  clearly  to  the  cavaliere  Frezzi ;  and 
Cristina  had  taken  him  knowing  that  in  doing  so  she  was 
marrying  a  country  gentleman  who  had  no  intention  of  living 
any  other  life  than  that  which  his  father  had  lived  before  him. 

As  he  rode  homeward  after  his  interview  with  Vittoria  di  San 
Felice,  Ugo  had  pondered  deeply  over  the  advice  which  had 
been  given  him.  Donna  Vittoria,  he  told  himself,  had  set  him 
two  tasks  which  were  hard  to  perform,  but  in  doing  so  she  had 
indirectly  appealed  to  his  generosity.  It  had  been,  indeed,  the 
appeal  of  one  generous  nature  to  another;  and,  in  making  it, 
Vittoria  di  San  Felice  had  not  erred  in  her  calculations  as  to  the 
response  it  would  meet  with. 

She  had  refused  to  admit  that  he  should  turn  to  any  other 
person  than  his  own  wife  for  an  explanation  as  to  the  contents  of 
the  anonymous  letter  he  had  received — if  any  explanation  were 
necessary.  She  had  also  gently  reproached  him  for  his  egoism 
in  not  attempting  to  place  himself,  as  it  were,  in  Cristina's 
position,  and  endeavour  to  make  allowance  for  one  who  had 
views  different  from  his  own  as  to  what  constituted  a  happy  or  a 
useful  life. 

And  Ugo  Vitali's  nature  had  at  once  responded  to  the  call 
made  upon  his  generosity.  He  told  himself  that  Donna  Vittoria 
was  right.  He  would  take  the  letter  to  Cristina,  if  only  to  show 
her  that  he  intended  to  have  implicit  confidence  in  her,  and  that 
he  refused  to  allow  any  misunderstandings  to  arise  between  them. 
As  the  duchessa  had  said,  it  was  an  evil  nature  which  could 
refuse  to  return  confidence  for  confidence,  and  he  was  not  going 
to  assume  Cristina  to  be  of  such  a  nature.  No  doubt,  too, 
Donna  Vittoria  was  equally  right  in  advising  him  to  give  way  to 
his  wife's  desire  to  see  more  of  the  world.  She,  Donna  Vittoria, 
was  a  woman,  and  as  such  might  be  supposed  to  understand  her 
own  sex  better  than  he  could  do.  Moreover,  woman  of  the 
world  though  she  was,  she  was  all  that  was  the  reverse  of 
worldly ;  and,  therefore,  if  she  sympathised,  as  apparently  she  did 
sympathise,  with  his  wife's  wish  to  see  and  be  seen  by  the  world 
of  society,  she  doubtless  had  a  very  good  reason  for  counselling 
him  to  do  something  towards  gratifying  that  wish. 


176  TEMPTATION 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Vittoria  di  San  Felice's  counsels 
immediately  prevailed  with  him,  Ugo  was  unable  altogether  to 
dismiss  the  fear  lest  his  wife  might  misinterpret  his  motives  in 
showing  her  the  anonymous  letter.  Would  she  respond  to  a 
generous  confidence  as — well,  as  Donna  Vittoria  herself  would 
have  responded  under  similar  circumstances?  He  had  not 
thought  it  necessary  to  tell  the  duchessa,  when  she  insisted  that 
he  should  take  the  letter  direct  to  Cristina,  that  this  course  had 
occurred  to  him,  and  that  he  had  not  even  considered  it  but 
had  at  once  dismissed  it  from  his  mind.  Donna  Vittoria 
would  have  at  once  proceeded  to  reason  with  him  on  the  sub- 
ject ;  and  in  the  process  he  would  have  scarcely  been  able  to 
avoid  letting  her  know  more  of  his  domestic  troubles  than 
would  be  becoming  to  admit  even  to  an  intimate  and  trusted 
friend. 

He  had  speedily  determined,  however,  that  he  would  follow  the 
advice  he  had  sought ;  and  as  he  rode  up  the  long  slope  of  the 
rising  ground  dominated  by  the  walls  and  gateways  of  Viterbo, 
and  turned  into  a  by-lane  leading  into  the  grounds  behind  Palazzo 
Vitali,  he  had  resolved  to  banish  his  doubts  as  to  the  spirit  in 
which  Cristina  might  receive  his  confidence,  and  to  seek  an  early 
opportunity  of  showing  her  the  letter. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  the  whole  thing  must  be 
nonsense,  an  impudent  attempt  on  the  part  of  somebody 
Cristina  has  offended  to  make  mischief,  at  which  she  and  I  will 
be  able  to  laugh."  But,  often  as  he  repeated  the  words  in  his 
mind,  they  proved  powerless  to  drive  out  the  doubt  that  refused 
to  be  convinced  by  them. 

It  was  considerably  past  the  breakfast-hour  when  Ugo  reached 
Palazzo  Vitali.  Entering  the  dining-room,  he  found  that  Cristina 
and  his  cousin  had  nearly  finished  that  meal.  His  appearance 
was  evidently  unexpected,  for  Cristina  started  slightly  as  he  came 
into  the  room. 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  would  probably  not  return  to  break- 
fast," she  observed  quickly.  "  Fabrizio  and  I  have  nearly 
finished." 

"  It  does  not  matter,"  replied  Ugo,  "  I  am  not  very  hungry. 


TEMPTATION  177 

I  will  ring  the  bell,  for  Taddeo  does  not  know  that  I  have 
reiurned.     I  can  eat  up  what  you  and  Fabrizio  have  left." 

"You  had  better  order  something  fresh,"  said  Countess 
Vitali ;  "  some  eggs  al  piatto  and  some  cutlets  alia  milanese ; 
those  can  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes.  Are  you  going  out  again 
after  breakfast  ?  " 

"No,  I  have  done  my  business  for  to-day,"  Ugo  replied. 
There  was  a  pause,  during  which  Taddeo  appeared  in  answer  to 
the  bell  and  hastily  departed  to  the  kitchen. 

"  It  is  a  good  thing  that  you  have  returned  early,"  observed 
Cristina  presently.  "  You  and  Fabrizio  will  be  able  to  see  some- 
thing of  one  another  before  he  leaves  us." 

Ugo  looked  up  surprised.  "  Leaves  us  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  say  that  you  are  going  away  to-day  ?  "  he  added  to 
Fabrizio. 

"Well,  not  actually  to-day,"  Fabrizio  replied,  "  but  I  am  afraid 
that  I  must  return  to  Rome  to-morrow  morning,  by  the  first 
train " 

"  Fabrizio  has  had  a  letter  from  his  mother,"  interrupted 
Cristina.  "  It  appears  that  she  wants  him  to  come  back  at  once. 
Some  business  matter,  is  it  not  ? "  she  continued,  glancing  at 
him. 

Fabrizio  laughed  nervously.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  a  mere  trifle, 
but,  as  you  know,  Ugo,  my  mother  has  nobody  except  me  to 
attend  to  her  affairs  for  her,  so  I'm  afraid  I  must  really  leave  you 
this  time.  I  have  said  the  same  thing  so  often,  that  you  have 
probably  ceased  to  believe  me  ! " 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Ugo,  a  little  absently.  "  But,  of  course,  a 
matter  of  business,  that  must  be  attended  to,  and  no  doubt  your 
mother  needs  you." 

"But  he  will  return  here  later  on,  for  the  vintage,"  Cristina 
observed.  "That  is  an  understood  thing,  Fabrizio,  is  it  not? 
You  promised  Ugo  that  you  would  do  so,  and  if  you  do  not  keep 
your  promise,  we  shall  conclude  that  our  country  life  here  has 
been  too  dull  for  you  to  venture  to  repeat  your  visit.  We  expect 
him  for  the  vintage,  do  we  not,  Ugo  ?  "  she  added,  turning  to  her 
husband. 


178  l^EMPTATION 

"Of  course,"  replied  Ugo  hesitatingly,  "that  is,"  he  added, 
"  if  nothing  unforeseen  happens.  Yes,  of  course  you  must  return, 
Fabrizio." 

Cristina  gave  him  a  quick  glance,  one  full  of  suspicion.  There 
was  a  lack  of  cordiality,  of  genuineness  in  Ugo's  voice  which  was 
not  natural  to  him. 

"  Fabrizio  will  have  ample  time  to  invent  an  excuse  before  the 
vintage  begins,"  she  remarked  indifferently.  "  We  are  only  in 
July,  and  September  is  some  way  off !  No  ! "  she  added,  as 
Fabrizio  began  to  protest,  "  the  more  you  say  now,  the  more 
difficult  it  will  be  for  you  to  invent  excuses  afterwards  !  So  be 
careful,  Fabrizio,  and  do  not  say  too  much."  She  laughed  as  she 
spoke,  but  her  eyes  fixed  themselves  for  an  instant  on  Fabrizio 
with  a  warning  look. 

Ugo  smiled  also.  Cristina's  words  and  manner  were  perfectly 
natural.  It  was  only  her  quick  glance  at  Fabrizio  which,  had  he 
noticed  it,  might  have  led  him  to  suspect  that  her  observation 
was  intended  to  convey  a  different  meaning  to  each  of  her 
listeners. 

"After  that  remark,"  he  said  to  Fabrizio,  "you  will  not  dare 
to  tell  us  in  September  that  you  are  engaged.  When  I  say 
September,"  he  added,  "  I  mean  quite  early  in  that  month. 
The  heat  has  brought  the  vines  forward  very  rapidly  this  year,  and 
the  grapes  are  already  considerably  larger  than  is  usually  the  case 
in  July.  I  expect  that  by  the  middle  of  September  we  shall 
have  already  finished  our  vintage  round  here." 

It  had  been  somewhat  of  a  surprise  to  Ugo  to  learn  that  his 
cousin  was  really  leaving  them  the  following  morning;  and  at 
the  same  time  the  intelligence  afforded  him  a  certain  relief.  The 
question  of  Fabrizio's  departure  had,  of  course,  been  discussed 
more  than  once ;  but  as  there  had  been  no  definite  reason — be- 
yond the  fact  that  his  visit  had  already  been  of  considerable 
duration — for  his  leaving,  the  matter,  by  common  consent,  had 
been  allowed  to  remain  unsettled.  Whatever  latent  doubts  Ugo 
VitaU  might  have  as  to  whether  his  anonymous  correspondent 
had  not  intended  to  warn  him  against  Fabrizio's  presence  under 
his  roof,  these  were  completely  dispelled  by  his  wife's  last  remark. 


TEMPTATION  179 

He  immediately  regretted  his  want  of  cordiality  in  seconding  her 
suggestion  that  Fabrizio  should  return  in  order  to  assist  at  the 
vintage,  the  more  so  as  he  now  recollected  that  this  suggestion  had 
originally  proceeded  from  himself. 

As  soon  as  Ugo  had  finished  breakfast,  and  they  had  left  the 
dining-room  he  approached  his  wife.  "  I  have  a  little  matter  of 
business  to  talk  over  with  you,  Cristina,"he  began,  "a  letter " 

"  More  delays  in  the  settlement  of  the  Marchesa  Santoro's 
affairs,  I  suppose,"  Countess  Vitali  interrupted  impatiently. 
"  Really,  Ugo,"  she  added,  "  those  Roman  lawyers  are  too  bad — 
they  are  farabutti,  all  of  them  !  " 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "  It  is  part  of  a  lawyer's  business  to  create 
difficulties,"  he  said.  "  You  forget,  my  dear  cousin,  that  I  am 
a  lawyer." 

"  By  profession,"  retorted  Cristina  drily. 

"  It  seems  to  me,''  observed  Ugo,  "  that  a  dentist  might  just  as 
well  say  that  it  was  part  of  his  business  to  poke  holes  in  sound 
teeth.  But  it  is  not  a  question  of  the  Santoro  lawyers,  Cristina — 
but  merely  of  a  letter  I  have  received  that  I  think — that  I  wish 
you  to  see,"  he  concluded  hastily. 

"  How  mysterious ! "  exclaimed  Countess  Vitali  lightly. 
"  When  you  have  smoked  your  cigar  you  will  find  me  in  my 
room.  It  is  much  too  hot  to  think  of  going  out  till  five  oclock  " ; 
and,  so  saying,  she  took  up  a  book  and  went  out  of  the  drawing- 
room,  leaving  her  husband  and  Fabrizio  alone  together. 

After  she  had  gone,  Ugo  Vitali  exerted  himself  to  talk  to 
his  cousin,  but  Fabrizio  quickly  saw  that  his  host  was  pre- 
occupied with  his  own  thoughts. 

•'  I  have  been  thinking,"  Ugo  said  suddenly — after  a  prolonged 
pause  during  which  he  had  puffed  abstractedly  at  his  cigar — "  that 
it  might  be  a  good  thing  to  take  an  apartment  in  Rome  next 
winter.  It  is  very  dull  for  my  wife  to  be  shut  up  here  during  the 
winter  months.     What  do  you  think,  Fabrizio  ? " 

Fabrizio  started.  He  could  hardly  believe  that  he  had  heard 
aright. 

"  But  I  thought  you  hated  Rome  !  "  he  said,  not  knowing  what 
else  to  say. 


180  TEMPTATION 

"  So  I  do,"  returned  Ugo  emphatically,  •'  but  Cristina  would 
like  to  spend  at  any  rate  a  part  of  the  season  there,  and  once  in 
a  way,  perhaps,  it  might  be  a  good  thing  to  do.  You  see, 
Fabrizio,  she  has  very  few  interests  here.  It  is  not  as  if  she  had 
her  children  to  occupy  her.     And,  after  all,  women  like  society." 

"  I  have  often  told  you  that  you  should  take  your  wife  to 
Rome,"  observed  Fabrizio  guardedly.  "  She  certainly  will  be 
very  much  admired  there,"  he  added. 

Ugo  sniffed  contemptuously,  "  Of  course  !  "  he  said.  "  Every 
one  of  the  wretched  little  specimens  of  our  sex,  who,  I  am  told, 
run  from  one  tea-party  to  another  in  Rome,  will  try  to  make  love 
to  her !  but  I  am  not  jealous,  caro  mio ;  and  I  can  trust  Cristina 
to  take  care  of  herself." 

"Si  capisce  !  "  returned  Fabrizio  hastily.  "All  the  same,"  he 
continued,  "  I  am  surprised,  Ugo.  I  thought  that  you  would 
never  go  to  Rome,  or  indeed  to  any  city,  for  the  sake  of  its 
society." 

Ugo  laughed  drily.  "  Neither  would  I !  "  he  replied ;  "  but  I 
have  wondered  lately  whether  I  ought  not  to  consider  Cristina's 
wishes  a  little  more  than  I  have  hitherto  done.  No  doubt  she 
has  often  told  you  that  she  would  like  to  see  more  of  the 
world?" 

Fabrizio  hesitated.  "  Often,  no,"  he  replied.  "  She  has 
occasionally  told  me  that  she  was  bored  with  the  very  small 
society  you  have  here  at  Viterbo,  and  that  she  would  like  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  people  who  formed  part  of  the  real  life  of  Italy 
and  elsewhere.  She  has  said  the  same  thing  to  you,  Ugo,  in  my 
presence,  is  it  not  true  ?  Cristina  is  a  clever  woman.  Though 
her  life  has  been  a  very  secluded  one,  she  has  read  a  great  deal ; 
and  I  have  sometimes  been  surprised  at  the  ease  with  which  she 
can  talk  on  subjects  of  which  I  should  have  thought  she  would 
scarcely  have  heard." 

Ugo  sent  a  little  ring  of  smoke  curling  up  into  the  air  and 
watched  it  meditatively. 

"That  is  true,"  he  said  presently.  "Until  you  came  here 
I  had  never  realised  that  Cristina  was  so  much  interested  in  all 
that   is  going   on  in  the  world.      Your  conversations  together 


TEMPTATION  181 

have  often  been  quite  out  of  my  depth,  though  they  might  easily 
be  that,  for  I  am  ignorant  of  everything  except  my  own  particular 
business.  She  would  know  that  it  would  be  waste  of  time  to 
talk  to  me  as  she  talks  to  you." 

Fabrizio  looked  at  him  suspiciously ;  but  it  is  evident  that  he 
was  speaking  in  perfect  sincerity. 

"  And  as  she  would  talk  to  anyone  else  who  she  felt  shared 
her  interest  in  those  things,"  he  said. 

Ugo  nodded.  "  One  should  try  to  put  oneself  on  the  same 
level  as  other  people,"  he  remarked ;  "  or,  at  any  rate,  to  realise 
that  they  have  a  different  level  from  one's  own." 

Fabrizio  stared  at  him. 

"I  do  not  understand,"  he  began. 

Ugo  laughed  shortly.  "  No  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  mean  that  when 
I  married  Cristina,  I  thought  that  she  and  I  were,  intellectually, 
on  the  same  level.  She  is  not  on  my  level,  but  on  a  higher  one, 
and  I  have  been  trying  to  compel  her  to  descend  to  mine.  It  is 
very  simple." 

"And  now?"  asked  Fabrizio. 

"  Now  I  shall  not  try  any  longer  to  make  her  descend  to  mine," 
replied  Ugo. 

Fabrizio  looked  at  him  enquiringly.  "  I  wonder,"  he  observed, 
"  what  has  made  you  suddenly  arrive  at  this  decision  ?  Two  or 
three  days  ago  you  told  me  that  nothing  would  induce  you  to 
waste  your  time  by  going  to  Rome." 

Ugo  did  not  answer  the  question.  "  If  you  do  not  mind  my 
leaving  you,  I  will  go  to  Cristina,"  he  said,  *'  and  later  we  can  all 
meet  on  the  terrace." 

Without  further  delay  he  went  to  the  apartment  Cristina  used 
as  a  sitting-room,  a  large  room  which  in  past  times  had  served 
as  an  ante-chamber  to  the  suite  they  now  occupied.  The 
windows  of  this  room  looked  into  the  courtyard,  as  did  those  of 
Ugo's  bedroom  which  was  immediately  beyond  it :  while  the  apart- 
ment in  which  Cristina  slept  communicated  with  it  by  lofty  double 
doors  situated  at  the  opposite  end.  As  is  the  case  in  most 
Italian  palaces,  this  second  suite  of  rooms  formed  as  it  were  an 
independent  establishment  which,  having  its  own  staircase  and 


182  TEMPTATION 

servants'  offices  could,  if  necessary,  be  completely  separated  from 
the  rest  of  the  house. 

The  room  was  darkened  to  keep  it  cool  and  fresh,  and  the 
windows  hermetically  closed  to  shut  out  the  hot  air  rising  from  the 
courtyard  beneath,  on  which  the  fierce  July  sun  was  beating 
pitilessly, 

Cristina  was  seated  near  her  writing-table,  an  open  book, 
which  she  put  aside  as  the  door  opened  upon  her  husband,  lying 
in  her  lap. 

"You  have  brought  me  the  mysterious  letter?"  she  asked,  as 
Ugo  approached  her  chair.     He  came  and  stood  by  her  side. 

"Yes,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "but " 

Cristina  stretched  out  her  hand.  "I  am  to  read  it,  I  sup- 
pose ? "  she  interrupted.  "  Why  do  you  look  so  grave, 
Ugo?" 

"  I  want  you  to  read  it — yes,"  returned  Ugo ;  "  but,  first 
of  all,  Cristina,  I  want  to  be  sure  that  you  will  understand 
why  I  give  it  you — that  you  will  see  that  it  is  because  I  trust 
you." 

Cristina  sat  up  in  her  chair,  all  her  suspicions  aroused  by  his 
words.  Could  the  letter  contain  some  warning  as  to  her  relations 
with  Fabrizio?  she  wondered. 

"  Ma,  caro  mio,"  she  exclaimed  impatiently,  "it  is  nothing 
unusual  for  a  man  to  trust  his  wife — no  ?  Do  not  let  us  waste 
time  in  complimenting  one  another  !  From  your  grave  face  one 
would  imagine  the  matter  to  be  serious." 

Ugo  put  the  letter  into  her  hand  in  silence. 

She  read  it  eagerly,  once,  twice.     Then  she  laughed. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Ugo,  drawing  in  his  breath  sharply,  "you 
laugh?" 

Cristina  looked  at  him  tranquilly.  "  But  certainly  I  laugh  !  " 
she  said.  "  I  do  not  see  what  else  there  is  for  me  to  do.  And 
you,  why  do  you  not  laugh  also,  Ugo,  instead  of  looking  so  grave? 
Is  it  possible  that  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  be  disturbed  by 
this  ridiculous  thing  ?  " 

Ugo  Vitali  looked  at  her  keenly.  "  That  is  all  very  well,"  he 
replied ;    "  but  you  forget,  Cristina,  I  have  some  reason  to  be 


TEMPTATION  183 

disturbed  by  the  fact  that  such  a  letter  could  be  written  about  my 
wife.     Moreover — "  and  he  hesitated. 

Countess  Vitali  scarcely  seemed  to  hear  him.  She  was  ap- 
parently engaged  in  studying  the  handwriting  of  the  letter,  which 
she  still  held. 

"  So ! "  she  exclaimed ;  "  you  are  to  watch  my  movements ! 
That  should  not  be  a  difficult  thing  to  do,  since  here  at  Viterbo 
they  are  necessarily  somewhat  limited." 

"  I  should  have  destroyed  the  letter,  and  should  have  thought 
no  more  about  it,"  continued  Ugo,  "  only " 

''Only?" 

"  Only  that  you  have  not  been  quite  so  happy  of  late  as  you 
appeared  to  be  when  we  first  married,"  said  Ugo  bitterly;  "and 
when  a  woman  is  not  happy  with  her  husband  it  is  generally 
because  she  is  thinking  all  the  time  of  some  other  man  with  whom 
she  believes  she  would  have  been  happier." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"  So  you  believe  that  your  anonymous  correspondent  is 
right,"  she  observed  quietly,  "  and  that  I  am  thinking  of 
some  other  man !  I  wonder  who  you  suspect  the  other  man  to 
be?  Corti,  perhaps,  or  Malvezzi,"  and  she  mentioned  two 
young  men  who  prided  themselves  on  being  viveurs  in  Viterbese 
society. 

"I  do  not  suspect  anybody,"  returned  Ugo  hastily,  "and  you 
least  of  all,  Cristina  !  Cannot  you  understand  ?  It  is  because  I 
do  not  suspect  that  I  have  brought  you  the  letter  ?  " 

Cristina  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Presently  she  asked  quickly : 
"  When  did  you  receive  this  absurd  letter  ?  " 

"  Only  yesterday.  When  we  returned  from  Caprarola  I  found 
it  among  the  other  correspondence  which  had  arrived  by  the 
afternoon  post." 

"  And  why  did  you  not  tell  me  of  it  at  once — yesterday  ?  " 

Ugo  hesitated.  "  I  did  not  know  what  to  do  for  the  best,"  he 
said  at  length.  "  It  required  consideration.  You  see,  Cristina, 
I  was  afraid  that  you  would  not  understand,  that  you  would  think 
I  was  bringing  the  letter  to  accuse  you.  Via !  I  will  be  quite 
frank  with  you,  and  then  we  shall  understand  each  other :  no  1  I 


184  TEMPTATION 

needed  advice,  the  advice  of  someone  I  could  trust  as  being  a 
good  friend  to  both  of  us.  So,  before  showing  you  the  letter  I 
consulted " 

"  Fabrizio  ?  "  exclaimed  Countess  Vitali. 

"  Fabrizio  ?  but  of  course  not !  I  went  to  Villa  Falconara. 
The  San  Felice  is  a  woman  of  the  world,  and  your  friend  as  well 
as  mine." 

Cristina  sprang  up  from  her  chair.  "  You  showed  that  letter 
to  the  San  Felice  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  No.  1  intended  to  have  shown  it  to  her,  but  she  refused  to 
allow  me  to  do  so.  She  even  refused  to  hear  or  to  know  its 
contents.  When  I  explained  to  her  that  it  referred  to  you,  and 
asked  her  what  she  would  advise  me  to  do,  she  told  me  that  I 
should  take  it  to  my  wife  only,  and  to  nobody  else."  He  paused, 
and  looked  at  her  earnestly,  but  Cristina  made  no  reply.  She 
stood  twisting  the  letter  in  her  hands,  her  brows  knitted.  But 
there  had  been  an  expression  of  absolute  incredulity  on  her  face 
as  she  listened  to  Ugo's  words. 

"  And  so,"  she  said  presently,  "  acting  on  the  Duchessa  di  San 
Felice's  advice  you  have  brought  the  letter  to  me  to  give  me  an 
opportunity  of  justifying  myself." 

"  My  first  impulse  was  to  bring  it  to  you,"  answered  Ugo 
simply ;  "  but  I  was  afraid,  as  I  have  told  you,  that  you  might 
misinterpret  my  motive  for  doing  so.  But  you  do  not  mis- 
interpret it,  Cristina?  You  do  understand  both  why  I  was 
afraid  to  bring  it  to  you  at  once,  and  why  I  do  so  now,  do  you 
not  ? " 

For  some  moments  he  waited  in  vain  for  her  answer.  Then 
Cristina  turned  to  him.  "  If  I  had  received  a  similar  letter  con- 
cerning you,"  she  said,  "  I  should  not  have  consulted  a  third 
person.  But  of  course  you  and  the  San  Felice  were  intimate 
friends  long  before  you  knew  me  ! " 

Ugo's  face  flushed.  "  What  do  you  mean,  Cristina  ?  "  he  asked 
shortly. 

Countess  Vitali  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Merely  what  I  say," 
she  replied  coldly.  "  The  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  is,  no  doubt, 
very  disinterested — but  if  your  confidence  in  me  is  only  due  to 


TEMPTATION  185 

her  counsels,  you  cannot  expect  me  to  be  much  flattered  by  that 
confidence ! " 

Ugo  stared  at  her  in  bewilderment.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say," 
he  exclaimed,  "that  you  are  jealous  of  her?" 

Cristina's  eyes  flashed.  "  I  do  not  give  myself  the  trouble," 
she  replied.  "  I  have  always  been  aware  that  she  was  your — 
friend.  Marriage  does  not  necessarily  interfere  with  such  friend- 
ships, does  it  ?  " 

Her  voice  was  loud  and  sneering,  and  there  was  something  in 
its  tones  and  in  the  expression  of  her  face  that  made  Ugo  Vitali 
think  of  some  peasant  woman  quarrelling  with  her  husband  or 
her  lover.  A  momentary  feeling  of  disgust  was  quickly  replaced 
by  anger  at  the  malicious  suggestion  contained  in  her  words,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  with  her  he  lost  control  over  his 
temper. 

"Ferdt'o/^'  he  exclaimed,  "You  are  suggesting  what  you 
know  to  be  a  lie.  Perhaps  you  are  lying  in  order  to  search  for 
some  excuse  for  being  unfaithful  to  me  !  Are  you  ?  answer  me," 
and  he  seized  her  arm  roughly. 

Cristina  recoiled  from  him.  She  was  frightened,  and  not  a 
little  surprised.  Often  as  she  had  tried  her  husband's  patience  in 
the  last  couple  of  years,  she  had  never  seen  him  give  way  to 
anger.  Even  in  her  alarm,  however,  her  inherent  astuteness  did 
not  fail  her,  and  her  suspicious  nature  at  once  led  her  to  believe 
that  she  divined  the  real  cause  of  his  anger.  Her  shaft,  sped  at 
random  had,  she  told  herself,  hit  the  mark,  and  Ugo's  sudden 
outburst  of  anger  was  a  proof  that  there  was  more  than  old 
friendship  between  him  and  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice.  In  at 
once  assigning  the  lowest  motive  to  her  husband's  unexpected 
outbreak  of  contemptuous  anger,  the  instincts  of  the  Norcian 
peasant  blood  came  to  the  surface ;  as  they  had  done  during  her 
lapse  into  the  peasant  coarseness  of  tone  and  gesture  a  moment 
before.  In  an  instant  she  decided  on  her  course.  An  open 
quarrel  with  Ugo  must  be  avoided  at  all  costs  ;  and  the  knowledge 
she  believed  she  had  gained  must  be  reserved  as  a  weapon  for 
future  use,  if  necessary. 

"  Forgive  me,  Ugo,"  she  exclaimed  gently.     "  I  was  wrong  ;  it 


186  TEMPTATION 

was  odious  of  me  to  say  that.  But  it  is  you  who  do  not  under- 
stand. A  wife  resents  the  thought  that  her  husband  has  sought 
the  advice  of  another  woman — has  confided  in  another  woman 
rather  than  confide  in  her.  I  was  mad  to  speak  as  I  did  !  Of 
course  I  Icnow  that  you  and  the  San  Felice  have  always  been 
friends — real  friends,  I  mean,  and  that  she  is  my  friend  also. 
But  for  the  moment — to  feel  that  you  had  confided  the  contents 
of  that  letter  to  her " 

Ugo  caught  her  hands  in  his  own,  and  before  she  had  ceased 
speaking  every  trace  of  anger  had  vanished  from  his  face. 

"  Cristina  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is  for  you  to  forgive  me  !  I 
am  an  imbecile,  and  it  is  I  who  have  not  understood.  You  are 
right  to  reproach  me,  for  I  should  have  had  more  confidence  in 
you  than  to  seek  advice  from  another,  even  from  so  old  a  friend 
as  Donna  Vittoria." 

Cristina  passed  her  handkerchief  over  her  eyes,  and  then  she 
looked  at  him  and  smiled.  "  Tell  me  all  the  San  Felice  said," 
she  replied.  "  At  any  rate,"  she  added,  "  I  am  grateful  to  her 
for  having  given  you  good  advice,  though  I  shall  always  think 
that  you  might  have  done  without  it." 

Ugo  took  her  in  his  arms  suddenly,  and  kissed  her.  "  You 
cannot  reproach  me  more  than  I  reproach  myself!"  he  said 
tenderly.  "As  to  Donna  Vittoria,"  he  continued,  "she  knows 
nothing ;  because,  as  I  told  you,  she  refused  to  know.  She,  too, 
reproached  me,  Cristina,  for  not  at  once  confiding  in  you.  She 
said  that  it  was  an  evil  nature  which  did  not  return  confidence  for 
confidence,  and  that  it  was  my  duty  to  show  you  I  trusted  you 
implicitly." 

"  So  she  did  not  read  the  letter  ?  "  said  Cristina. 

"  No.  Neither  would  she  hear  its  contents.  I  have  told  you 
so  already.  But  she  did  more  than  reproach  me  for  not  showing 
you  the  letter.  She  made  me  understand  that  I  have  been  a 
selfish  husband  to  you." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  with  genuine  surprise. 

"  Selfish  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"  Yes ;  in  keeping  you  here  at  Viterbo.  She  told  me  that  I 
ought  to  take  you  to  Rome  next  winter,  and  allow  you  to  see  mor? 


TEMPTATION  187 

of  the  world.  I  see  now  that  she  is  right.  Donna  Vittoria  is  a 
very  sensible  woman,  Cristina." 

"  Altro ! "  observed  Countess  Vitali  briefly,  with  an  enigmatic 
smile. 

"  Not  many  women  would  have  abstained  from  gratifying  their 
curiosity  by  refusing  to  know  the  contents  of  that  letter,"  pursued 
Ugo.     "  I  told  her  so,"  he  added. 

"  And  what  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  She  told  me  that  I  did  not  know  enough  about  women  to  be 
a  judge  of  them." 

"  I  should  think  that  was  true/'  remarked  Cristina  quietly,  and 
she  smiled  again. 

Ugo  Vitali  laughed.  A  great  weight  had  been  lifted  from  his 
mind.  Donna  Vittoria  had  been  right,  and  he  was  glad  he  had 
taken  her  advice.  He  was  glad,  too,  that  he  had  told  Cristina 
he  had  sought  that  advice.  Her  anger  at  learning  that  he  had 
confided  in  another  woman  what  he  had  hesitated  to  confide  to 
her  was  surely  a  proof  that,  after  all,  she  cared  for  him.  He 
almost  forgot  his  own  indignation  at  the  way  in  which  this  anger 
had  found  its  expression,  and  his  wife's  sudden  lapse  into  a  want 
of  refinement  in  voice  and  manner  that  had  startled  him  and 
jarred  upon  all  his  nature.  The  indifference  which  Cristina  had 
displayed  to  the  letter  had  completely  set  at  rest  all  his  suspicions 
that  his  anonymous  correspondent  might  be  telling  the  truth,  and 
this  in  a  manner  which  probably  no  amount  of  angry  denial  would 
have  done.  He  found  himself  hoping  that  a  reversion  to  their 
former  life  together,  while  Cristina  had  apparently  been  happier 
and  more  contented,  would  date  from  that  afternoon.  How  right 
Donna  Vittoria  had  been  to  urge  him  to  confide  in  his  wife  and  in 
his  wife  only  1  An  indiscreet,  or  a  mischievous  adviser  might 
have  caused  a  life-long  bitterness  and  mistrust  to  arise  between 
them. 

"We  understand  one  another  better  now,  Cristina  mia,"  he 
said  gently,  "do  we  not?  and  you  will  see  that  in  the  future  I 
shall  not  be  so  selfish.  We  will  go  to  Rome  after  Christmas, 
and  you  shall  not  always  be  shut  up  here  at  Viterbo  with  nobody 
more  interesting  than  Corti  and  Malvezzi  to  talk  to.     No  doubt 


188  TEMPTATION 

the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  will  help  us  in  making  our  appearance 
in  the  Roman  world.  She  is  going  to  spend  most  of  next  spring 
at  Palazzo  San  Felice  she  tells  me." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  curiously.  "That,"  she  observed 
quietly,  "is  a  very  fortunate  coincidence.  I  thought  the  San 
Felice  scarcely  ever  spent  more  than  a  month  in  Rome  during 
the  season." 

"  It  is  certainly  a  fortunate  coincidence  for  us,"  agreed  Ugo. 
"  You  hke  the  prospect  of  a  season  in  Rome  ?  "  he  added,  smiling 
at  her. 

"  But  of  course !  One  vegetates  here — I  have  always  told  you 
so !  All  the  same,  Ugo,  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  be  away  from 
the  land  for  so  long,  unless  you  have  a  fatiore  to  look  after  things 
in  your  absence." 

"Oh,  we  will  arrange  all  that,"  replied  Count  Vitali 
cheerfully. 

"  After  all,"  he  continued,  "  Rome  is  not  so  far  away.  I  can 
go  backwards  and  forwards  very  easily,  when  you  are  settled  in 
some  apartment.  It  will  be  better  to  take  an  apartment  than  to 
live  in  an  hotel — the  hotels  are  full  of  foreigners." 

"  Yes,"  said  Cristina  absently,  and  taking  up  a  little  paper  fan 
she  had  placed  between  the  leaves  of  her  book  she  began  to  fan 
herself. 

"You  are  tired,"  said  Ugo,  "and  I  will  leave  you  to  rest  until 
five  o'clock.  I  suppose  Fabrizio  has  gone  to  his  room.  He 
really  means  to  leave  us  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  his  mother  insists  on  his  returning.  There  are  some 
papers  to  be  signed." 

Ugo  nodded.  "  He  must  do  as  he  likes,"  he  said  carelessly. 
"  Addio,  Cristina,  riposati  bene ! "  and  stooping  down  he  kissed 
her.  "  I  think  I  shall  go  out  again,"  he  continued ;  "  there  are 
one  or  two  things  I  want  to  look  at  on  the  farm.  One  of  the 
horses  is  ill,  and  the  veterinary  should  have  come  this  morning, 
so  I  must  hear  his  report.  By  the  bye,"  he  added,  "I  had 
forgotten  all  about  that  infernal  letter  !  You  have  it,  Cristina, 
have  you  not  ?  Give  it  to  me  and  I  will  tear  it  up,  and  we  will 
never  think  about  it  again." 


TEMPTATION  189 

Cristina's  hand  closed  over  the  already  crumpled  paper. 
"  No,"  she  said  ;  "  I  will  keep  it — as  a  souvenir  ! " 

Ugo  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  As  you  please,  carissima,"  he 
said;  "but  if  I  were  you,  I  should  tear  it  up." 

Cristina  looked  after  him  as  the  door  closed  upon  his  retreating 
figure. 

"  Che  sciocco ! "  she  muttered  to  herself.  **  Besides,"  she 
added,  as  if  in  response  to  some  afterthought,  "  it  is  too  late — 
much  too  late ! " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

"C^OR  some  time  after  her  husband  had  left  her  Countess  Vital! 
-*■  remained  in  her  room  fully  occupied  with  her  own  thoughts. 
Only  once,  in  the  course  of  their  recent  discussion — a  discussion 
which  had  left  Ugo  Vitali  under  the  happy  impression  that  it  was 
to  lead  to  the  re-establishment  of  a  more  satisfactory  state  of 
things  between  himself  and  his  wife — had  she  allowed  the  resent- 
ment she  felt  in  her  heart  to  come  to  the  surface,  and  she  had 
been  instantly  conscious  that  she  had  committed  a  tactical  error 
in  doing  so.  Until  now  she  had  never  believed  in  her  own 
theory  that  Ugo  would  have  married  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice 
had  the  duchessa  thought  it  worth  her  while  to  accept  him  as  a 
husband  instead  of  as  a  lover.  It  was  a  fiction  which  she  knew 
to  be  a  fiction ;  and  at  first  she  had  used  it  in  order  further  to 
excite  Fabrizio's  interest  in  her  and  his  compassion  for  her  lot. 
Latterly,  she  had  almost  succeeded  in  persuading  herself  that  her 
fiction  was  true.  The  reason  of  this  semi-persuasion  was,  of 
course,  clear  enough,  had  she  had  either  the  inclination  or  the 
power  to  analyse  it.  Her  growing  passion,  however,  for  the  man 
whose  scruples  she  had  determined  to  conquer  and  who,  she  had 
resolved,  should  become  her  lover  had  gradually  made  her  more 
than  ever  anxious  not  only  that  Fabrizio  should  believe  that  she 
was  compelled  by  force  of  circumstances  to  pretend  ignorance  ot 
her  husband's  unbroken  relations  with  another  woman,  but  also 
that  she  herself  should  beUeve  in  the  existence  of  those  relations. 
Hitherto,  her  grievance  against  Ugo  in  this  respect  had  been  a 
purely  imaginary  grievance,  which  she  had  felt  obliged  to  foster 
by  every  means  in  her  power  in  order  to  render  it  plausible  to 
herself  and  convincing  to  her  lover.  She  had  invented  the  story 
of  the  anonymous  letter  she  was  by  way  of  having  received; 
knowing  that,  as  Fabrizio  had  at  once  told  her,  such  communica- 
tions were  favourite  methods  with  her  compatriots  of  making 


TEMPTATION  191 

mischief,  or  of  conveying  information  for  which  the  writers  would 
not  care  to  be  held  responsible.  For  a  few  moments  that  after- 
noon Cristina  had  felt  a  very  unpleasant  alarm  lest  her  husband's 
suspicions  might  be  immediately  directed  towards  his  cousin. 
She  had  seen  at  once,  however,  that  this  was  not  the  case,  and 
she  had  rapidly  come  to  the  conclusion  that  to  allay  Ugo's 
misgivings  she  had  only  to  display  a  contemptuous  indifference  to 
the  suggestions  contained  in  the  letter  he  had  received.  The 
fact  that  such  a  letter  should  have  been  sent  to  her  husband  did 
not  greatly  trouble  her.  There  were,  without  doubt,  various 
friends  and  acquaintances  in  Viterbo  who  were  exercised  in  their 
minds  as  to  Fabrizio's  prolonged  stay  at  Palazzo  Vitali,  and  also 
as  to  the  fact  of  his  being  constantly  seen  walking  or  driving 
alone  with  her  while  Count  Vitali  was  engaged  elsewhere.  Such 
persons,  she  had  reflected,  could  only  tell  Ugo  what  he  already 
knew  and  approved  of.  Of  the  conversations  which  she  and 
Fabrizio  had  had,  and  especially  of  such  episodes  as  had  occurred 
on  the  day  of  the  hailstorm  and  in  the  gardens  that  same 
evening,  nobody  could  tell  him  anything.  The  letter,  as  Ugo 
had  said,  was  in  all  probability  the  attempt  of  some  impudent 
busybody  to  make  mischief;  and  it  was  fortunate  that  Ugo  had 
seemed  quite  disposed  to  accept  this  explanation  of  it,  when  once 
he  had  seen  that  she  was  not  disturbed  by  its  allegations 
regarding  herself. 

But  when  Ugo  had  proceeded  to  tell  her  that  he  had  taken  the 
letter  to  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  Cristina  had  felt  that  here, 
indeed,  was  a  genuine  grievance,  and,  moreover,  an  additional 
proof  of  the  intimacy  which  she  had  wished  to  convince  Fabrizio, 
and  subsequently  to  convince  herself,  existed  between  the  two. 
She  forgot,  or  she  did  not  choose  to  remember,  that  it  was  she 
who  had  driven  her  husband  to  seek  counsel  of  another,  and  not 
counsel  only,  but  also  sympathy.  She  was  determined  to  dis- 
believe both  in  the  honesty  of  Ugo's  expressions  of  self-reproach 
for  having  allowed  himself  to  confide  more  readily  in  another 
woman  than  in  herself  and  in  the  disinterestedness  of  the 
duchessa's  advice. 

She  must  see  Fabrizio,  she  said  to  herself,  without  delay,  and 


192  TEMPTATION 

acquaint  him  with  this  fresh  proof  that  Ugo  had  deceived  him  in 
his  professions  of  affection  for  her ;  that  these  professions  had 
been  merely,  as  she  had  more  than  once  hinted  to  her  lover,  as 
so  much  dust  thrown  in  his  eyes  in  order  to  conceal  the  fact 
that  his  relations  with  the  San  Felice  had  not  been  interrupted, 
nay,  had  been  rendered  more  easy  of  maintenance,  by  his 
marriage.  Fortunately  Ugo  had  gone  out  again,  and  she  would 
have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  Fabrizio  alone;  an  opportunity 
which  she  might  not  again  have,  as  Ugo  would  naturally  make  a 
point  of  not  absenting  himself  on  the  eve  of  his  cousin's  departure- 
It  was  lucky,  Cristina  thought  to  herself,  that  one  of  the  farm 
horses  had  been  taken  ill,  for  Ugo  would  probably  be  detained 
all  the  longer.  Indeed,  the  whole  situation  was  fortunate,  if  she 
could  succeed  in  making  Fabrizio  see  it  in  the  light  in  which  she 
intended  he  should  see  it.  She  had  full  confidence  in  her 
powers  of  simulation.  They  had  not  failed  her  that  afternoon 
with  her  husband,  and  there  was  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
they  would  do  so  with  her  lover.  It  was  certainly  strange,  she 
thought,  that  she  should  have  pretended  to  be  the  recipient  of 
an  anonymous  letter  in  order  to  appeal  more  forcibly  to  Fabrizio's 
feelings,  and  that  now  there  had  appeared  a  real  letter  which, 
though  it  reflected  on  her  own  conduct,  could  be  used  materially 
to  strengthen  her  hold  over  him.  The  position  was  one  full  of 
possibilities  for  misrepresentation,  and  intrigue  of  the  kind  which 
had  always  had  for  her  a  certain  fascination,  and  in  which  years 
ago  she  had  exercised  her  powers  when  she  had  only  the  nuns 
of  the  Assumptionist  convent  at  Perugia  upon  whom  she  could 
practise. 

Presently  Cristina  passed  from  the  boudoir  into  her  bedroom 
adjoining  it,  and,  after  giving  a  few  touches  to  her  toilette,  went 
through  the  cardinal's  apartments  to  the  billiard-room  where  she 
thought  that  she  might  find  Fabrizio.  He  was  not  there,  how- 
ever; and,  after  considering  for  a  moment  or  two  Countess 
Vitali  decided  to  retrace  her  steps  to  the  gallery,  through  which 
Fabrizio  would  have  to  pass  when  returning  from  his  room  whither 
he  had  probably  retired  when  Ugo  left  him.  Walking  the  length 
of  the  gallery  ?he  paused  almost  mechanically  in  front  of  Donna 


TEMPTATION  193 

Giulia's  portrait.  How  many  minutes  might  have  elapsed  while 
she  remained  engrossed  in  her  thoughts  Cristina  could  hardly 
have  told,  when  the  noise  of  a  door  a  few  paces  from  her  being 
opened  roused  her,  and  she  turned  round  quickly  to  find  Fabrizio 
entering  the  room.  He  gave  a  slight  start  as  he  saw  her  white- 
clad  form  standing  immediately  beneath  the  picture  in  the  semi- 
obscurity  of  the  darkened  gallery. 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  you,"  she  said  hurriedly.  **  I 
thought  you  might  be  in  the  billiard-room.  I  have  mucli  to  tell 
you." 

Fabrizio  glanced  at  her  quickly.  "  What  has  happened  ?  "  he 
asked  nervously. 

"A  great  deal  has  happened,"  returned  Countess  Vitali 
laconically.  "  I  have  been  insulted — insulted,  Fabrizio  ! "  she 
added,  speaking  almost  beneath  her  breath. 

Fabrizio  made  a  rapid  step  towards  her.  "  Insulted,"  he 
repeated;  "Ugo?" 

"Sicuro — Ugo!  He  has  gone  out — to  the  farm.  Ahorse  is 
ill.     He  thinks  more  of  his  beasts  than  he  does  of  his  wife." 

"Cristina!"  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "What  in  the  world  do  you 
mean  ?  Ugo  left  me  to  go  to  you.  He  was  full  of  a  new  idea 
that  seems  to  have  taken  possession  of  him,  an  idea  which,  I 
confess,  surprises  me.     He  told  me " 

"Yes?"  interrupted  Countess  Vitali  eagerly.  "What  did  he 
tell  you  ?  " 

"  That  he  meant  to  take  an  apartment  in  Rome  next  winter,  in 
order  that  you  should  pass  the  season  there.  He  reproached 
himself  for  having — oh,  well,  for  having  thought  only  about  his 
own  interests  in  life  and  not  about  yours.  I  never  heard  Ugo 
talk  in  that  way  before,  and,  as  I  say,  it  surprised  me.  What  in 
the  world  has  happened,  Cristina?  for  certainly  something  must 
have  happened,  and  I  do  not  understand  anything  at  all ! " 

Cristina  laughed  harshly.  "  Of  course  you  do  not  understand  ! 
Ugo  does  not  intend  that  you  should.  He  thinks  that  /do  not 
understand — but  I  am  not  an  imbecile — I ! " 

Fabrizio  stared  at  her.     "  If  you  would  explain — "  he  began. 

"  Wait ! "  interrupted  Cristina.     "  Ugo  said  nothing  to  you,  I 


194  TEMPTATION 

suppose,  about  a  letter  he  had  received?  another  anonymous 
letter,  which,  this  time,  I  shall  be  careful  not  to  destroy." 

For  the  first  time  Fabrizio  noticed  that  she  held  a  piece  of 
paper  in  her  hand.  "  A  letter  ?  "  he  re-echoed,  and  his  voice  had 
a  tone  in  it  of  apprehension  and  dismay.  "  No ;  he  alluded  to 
nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  All  the  same,  he  has  received  a  letter,  warning  him  to  watch 
my  movements — 'for  the  sake  of  the  honour  of  Casa  Vitali!'" 
returned  Countess  Vitali. 

"  Ci  siamo  !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio  bitterly.  "  But,"  he  added, 
as  though  a  fresh  thought  had  just  struck  him,  "I  do  not 
understand — Ugo  has  just  been  talking  quite  confidentially  to 
me^  not  as  he  would  talk  had  he  any  suspicion " 

Cristina  smiled  sarcastically.  "  But  do  you  not  see  that  it  is  a 
comedy  which  is  being  played  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Sicuro  !  Ugo  did 
not  mention  the  letter  to  you — but  he  took  it  to  the  San  Felice 
before  showing  it  to  me  !  He  does  not  hesitate  to  insult  me  by 
confiding  in  his  mistress  rather  than  in  his  wife,  and  by  acting  on 
the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice's  suggestions.  And  he  thinks  that  I 
am  such  an  imbecile  as  not  to  understand  ! " 

"  But  this  sudden  determination  to  take  you  to  Rome," 
said  Fabrizio.  "  Ugo  told  me  that,  though  he  hated  the  pros- 
pect of  going  to  a  town  for  so  long,  he  was  doing  it  for  your 
sake." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  almost  contemptuously.  "You  are 
very  ingenuous,  Fabrizio  mio,"  she  said  drily,  "  or  you  are  very 
dense.  The  San  Felice,  also,  will  spend  the  winter  in  Rome. 
You  will  see." 

*'  Diavolo ! "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.     "  So  it  is  for  that " 

"  Of  course  it  is  for  that ! "  interrupted  Countess  Vitali. 

Fabrizio  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  All  the  better  for  us," 
he  observed.  "  They  can  suit  their  own  convenience,  and  we — 
we  can  suit  ours,  Cristina.  What  have  I  always  told  you? 
in  Rome  it  will  be  easier  to  make  opportunities  for  being 
together  ;  whereas  here,  in  Palazzo  Vitali,  the  risk  is  too  great — 
even  if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  remain  here  indefinitely." 

"  But  you  do  not  see — can  you  not  understand?"  said  Cristina 


TEMPTATION  195 

suddenly,  in  a  low  voice.  *'  You  did  not  believe  me  when  I  first 
hinted  to  you  that  there  was  something  more  than  an  old  friend- 
ship between  Ugo  and  the  San  Felice,"  she  added  quickly.  "  But 
now — what  further  proof  can  you  need  of  what  I  have  had  to  en- 
dure? Ugo  has  never  trusted  me.  It  is  to  the  San  Felice 
he  goes  for  advice,  even  in  matters  concerning  his  own  wife — his 
own  honour,  as  this  letter  pretends  to  say  !  Is  that  not  an  insult  ? 
But,  after  all,  it  is  only  one  of  many  that  I  have  had  to  pretend 
not  to  notice." 

She  spoke  in  an  agitated  whisper,  and  Fabrizio  took  her  hands 
in  his  and  kissed  them.  "Do  they  matter  now — those  insults?" 
he  asked  tenderly.  "  Have  you  not  got  me,  Cristina  ?  If  Ugo 
chooses  to  be  unfaithful  to  you,  you  have  surely  the  right  to 
protect  yourself,  and  to  live  your  own  life ! " 

Cristina  shook  her  head.  "  A  woman  who  has  been  married 
for  the  reason  for  which  I  was  married  has  no  life  of  her  own," 
she  said  bitterly. 

"For  the  reason  for  which  you  were  married?"  repeated 
Fabrizio. 

"Do  you  not  know  the  reason?"  returned  Countess  Vitali,  and 
her  eyes  flashed  angrily.  "  If  you  do  not  know  it,"  she  continued, 
"my  husband  and  the  San  Felice  know  it — especially  the  San 
Felice !    You  had  better  ask  her." 

Fabrizio  Vitali  stamped  his  foot  impatiently.  "  Why  do  we 
live  in  a  priest-ridden  country  ?"  he  exclaimed,  "under  a  govern- 
ment afraid  of  those  hypocrites  of  the  sacristy  ?  In  any  civilised 
country — in  France,  in  England — anywhere — you  could  free  your- 
self— we  could  free  ourselves — per  dir'  meglio  !  But  here  in 
Italy  we  are  still  bound,  not  by  any  belief  in  what  the  priests  tell 
us — we  have  got  rid  of  all  that — but  by  fear  of  the  Church  as  a 
political  power.  When  Italy  is  free,  and  we  have  a  law  of  divorce 
compelling  the  priests  to  marry  divorced  persons  if  called  upon  to 
do  so — "  He  turned  abruptly  away  from  her  and  walked  a  few 
steps  across  the  gallery. 

"But  in  the  meantime,"  said  Countess  Vitali,  "the  priests 
have  their  own  way,  amico  mio.  There  is  no  mode  of  escape 
from   the   bonds   of  a   marriage  such  as  mine,   excepting   one. 


196  TEMPTATION 

According  to  your  friends  the  priests,  death — or  the  Pope — is  the 
only  loosener  of  the  bond." 

Fabrizio's  back  was  turned  towards  her  and  he  did  not  reply. 
Suddenly  he  looked  round  sharply.  "Why  do  you  laugh, 
Cristina  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

Countess  Vitali  stared  at  him.  "  I  ? "  she  replied.  "  I  did 
not  laugh  !  far  from  it.     What  do  you  mean,  Fabrizio  "  ? 

Again  he  did  not  answer  her.  His  face,  always  pale,  became 
a  shade  paler.  "  Are  you  sure  you  did  not  laugh  ?  "  he  asked 
presently. 

"  Of  course  I  am  sure  !  are  you  mad,  caro  mio  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  muttered  Fabrizio.  "  I  certainly  thought  I 
heard  you  laugh — either  you,  or — "  and  he  glanced  at  Donna 
Giulia's  portrait  above  them. 

Countess  Vitali  followed  his  gaze,  and  then  she  looked  at  him 
again  inquiringly.  "  We  are  alone,"  she  said,  with  a  slight  smile, 
"  so,  unless  it  was  your  ancestress.  Donna  Giulia,  who  laughed,  I 
think  your  nerves  must  be  out  of  order  again.  After  all,  perhaps 
Donna  Giulia  is  amused,"  she  added  mockingly.  "  It  would  be 
natural  that  she  should  be  so,  always  supposing  that  her  spirit 
still  exists ! " 

"  Sciocchezze ! "  exclaimed  Fabrizio  irritably.  "You  are 
talking  nonsense,  Cristina  !  My  ears  deceived  me,  of  course — 
as  they  have  done  before.  What  were  you  saying?  I  forget. 
Ah,  that  the  priests  say  death,  or  the  Pope,  alone  can  break  the 
bonds  of  matrimony.  It  is  very  easy  for  them  to  say  it,  since  they 
have  taken  good  care  to  exempt  themselves  from  the  bonds  they 
have  imposed  on  others  ! " 

"  Exactly — death,  or  the  Pope,"  returned  Cristina  slowly. 
"In  the  present  case,"  she  added,  "we  may  leave  the  Pope's 
intervention  as  being  scarcely  likely  to  occur ! " 

"  As  little  likely  to  occur  as  the  other,"  observed  Fabrizio. 

"  The  other  is  bound  to  occur  some  day." 

"  Si  capisce !  but  it  will  probably  occur  too  late  in  the  day  to 
be  of  any  advantage,"  Fabrizio  replied,  with  a  slight  laugh. 

Countess  Vitali  glanced  at  him,  with  a  rapid,  searching  glance. 
"  One  never  knows,"  she  said  indifferently.     "  The  unexpected 


TEMPTATION  197 

sometimes  happens.  For  instance,  I  might  have  been  killed  by 
the  lightning  the  other  day.  If  I  had,  Ugo  would  have  been  free 
to  marry  the  San  Felice  ! " 

"  Per  caritk  ! "  ejaculated  Fabrizio.  "  I  wish  you  would  not 
say  such  things,  Cristina !  I  was  not  thinking  of  Ugo  being  freed 
— but  of  your  own  freedom." 

"  Ah,"  exclaimed  Countess  Vitali,  "  but  my  freedom  is  not — " 
and  she  paused  abruptly. 

"Is  not  what?" 

"  Is  not  necessary  to  you,"  returned  Cristina,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  If  I  were  free,  you  would  not  want  me.     Men  are  like  that." 

Fabrizio  gave  a  gesture  of  dissent.  "  I  shall  always  want  you," 
he  said  quickly. 

"And,"  proceeded  Cristina,  "if  I  were  free,  you  would  be 
Count  Vitali,  and  in  Ugo's  place." 

Fabrizio  drew  closer  to  her.  "  I  should  be  Count  Vitali — yes," 
he  said;  "but  whether  I  should  be  in  Ugo's  place  would  depend 
upon  you ! " 

Cristina's  eyes  looked  into  his  own.  "  Cristina ! "  he  said 
hurriedly,  "  do  not  put  thoughts — bad  thoughts — into  my 
head  ! "  and  he  passed  his  hands  across  his  eyes  as  though  to  shut 
out  his  gaze. 

"You  would  want  to  fill  Ugo's  place — wholly?"  she  asked 
slowly;  "you  would  want  me — always?" 

"  Non  lo  sai  ?  "  The  question  seemed  as  it  were  to  be  wrenched 
from  him  by  a  physical  force  which  possessed  itself  of  his  will  and 
dominated  it.  Mechanically  he  stretched  out  his  hands  towards 
a  table,  as  if  to  steady  himself  by  grasping  something  material. 
Presently  the  blood  seemed  to  cease  beating  upon  his  brain,  and 
he  was  conscious  of  a  sensation  as  though  a  part  of  his  personality 
were  returning  to  him  and  re-asserting  itself.  "  I  wish  no  harm 
to  happen  to  Ugo,"  he  exclaimed  almost  roughly. 

Cristina  smiled  quietly.  "No  harm,  Fabrizio  mio,  of  course 
not ! "  she  said.  "  I  was  merely  wondering  what  would  happen  if 
— if  you  were  suddenly  to  find  yourself  in  Ugo's  place — as  his 
legal  heir.  That  is  not  assuming  you  wish  any  harm  to  befall  him. 
Perhaps,"  she  continued,  after  a  pause,  "  I  should  not  have  told 


198  TEMPTATION 

you  about  this  letter.  But  you  must  remember  that  you  were 
sceptical  as  to  Ugo's  relations  with  the  San  Felice  being  anything 
more  than  friendly.  Now  you  can  scarcely  be  sceptical  any 
longer.  You  see  for  yourself  that  Ugo  consults  her  in  everything, 
even  in  the  most  private  matters.  Can  you  wonder  if  I  regard 
his  having  taken  this  letter  to  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  as  a 
cruel  insult  to  me?  At  least,  I  should  regard  it  as  a  cruel  insult, 
did  I  believe  that  the  letter  was  genuine." 

Ugo  looked  at  her  with  a  puzzled  air.  "  How,  genuine  ?  "  he 
asked.     "  What  do  you  mean,  Cristina  ?  " 

Countess  Vitali  laughed  a  little  harshly.  "  They  are  playing  a 
comedy — those  two  ! "  she  said.  "  The  whole  affair  is  nothing 
but  a  scene  which  has  been  already  rehearsed  between  them. 
This  letter — it  was  not  necessary  to  take  it  to  the  San  Felice, 
since  she  knew  its  contents  already  !  Do  you  not  understand, 
Fabrizio  ?  " 

"  Niente  affatto  !  "  returned  Fabrizio  frankly.  "  I  understand 
nothing." 

Cristina  tapped  her  foot  impatiently  on  the  floor.  "So  it 
would  seem  ! "  she  replied.  "  Nevertheless,  the  whole  thing  is 
very  simple.  This  display  of  confidence  in  me  on  Ugo's  part  was 
pre-arranged  with  the  San  Felice.  The  letter  was  composed  by 
them," 

Fabrizio  spread  out  his  hands  despairingly.  "  I  cannot  follow 
you,"  he  said.  "  I  thought  it  was  the  want  of  confidence  in  you 
displayed  by  Ugo  that  made  his  action  so  insulting " 

"  Listen,"  interrupted  Cristina,  and  she  spoke  low  and  rapidly, 
"and  you  will  understand  better!  Ugo  brought  me  this  letter 
with  many  protestations  that  it  was  his  complete  confidence  in  me 
which  made  him  do  so.  He  reproached  himself  for  having  failed 
to  have  this  confidence  in  me  in  the  first  instance,  and  explained 
how  the  San  Felice  had  told  him  that  he  was  wrong — and  that  he 
should  bring  the  letter  to  me.  Bene  !  had  Ugo  stopped  there,  I 
might  have  believed  him.  I  might  have  thought,  as  it  was  in- 
tended I  should  think,  that  the  Duchessa  di  San  FeUce  was  indeed 
a  true  and  disinterested  friend  both  to  my  husband  and  to  me. 
Unluckily,  Ugo  made  a  uiistake— two  mistakes,  and  both  were 


TEMPTATION  199 

clumsy.  In  the  first  place  he  went  out  of  his  way  to  assure  me 
that,  though  he  had  wished  the  San  FaUce  to  read  this  letter,  she 
had  refused  to  do  so,  and  had  refused  even  to  know  its  contents. 
E  troppo  forte  !  What  woman  would  refuse  to  read  an  anony- 
mous letter  about  another  woman — especially  if  it  referred  to  her 
friend's  wife?  In  the  next  place,  after  telling  me  that  he  had 
been  selfish  in  obliging  me  always  to  lead  this  life  at  Viterbo  and 
that  he  meant  to  take  me  to  Rome,  he  accidentally  mentioned 
that  the  San  Felice,  also,  intended  to  spend  next  winter  in  Rome — 
and  the  San  Felice,  as  everybody  knows,  has  never  spent  a  season 
in  Rome  since  her  husband's  death.  Is  it  so  difficult  to  under- 
stand that  two  and  two  make  four  ?  " 

"  It  is  incredible  !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "  Had  it  been  any- 
body else,  and  not  Ugo." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  with  a  slight  smile.  "Caro  Fabrizio," 
she  observed  quietly,  "you  have  always  been  deceived  by 
Ugo's  apparent  frankness.  It  is  natural.  Until  six  weeks  ago, 
you  scarcely  knew  him,  and  you  do  not  know  him  much  better 
even  now.  But  I,  who  am  married  to  him,  know  him  better 
than  you  can  do  !  Some  people  cultivate  a  simple  manner.  It 
is  a  useful  thing  to  cultivate,  when  one  wishes  to  throw  dust  in 
Other  people's  eyes." 

"Then  you  believe  the  whole  thing  to  be  a  pre-arranged 
affair  between  Ugo  and  the  San  Felice,"  said  Fabrizio;  "and 
that  Ugo  has  no  suspicions  of — of  us  ?  This  letter,  in  short, 
is  merely  part  of  the  comedy,  as  you  call  it ! " 

"  Ah — finalmente  ci  siamo  ! "  exclaimed  Countess  Vitali.  "  It 
is  very  simple.  Ugo  married  me,  because  the  San  Felice  did 
not  find  it  convenient  to  marry  Ugo.  Those  things  happen 
occasionally,  is  it  not  true  ?  " 

"  Povera  la  mia  Cristina  !  "  murmured  Fabrizio. 

She  drew  herself  gently  away  from  him.  "  It  does  not  matter 
— now,"  she  said  softly.  "Before  you  came  into  my  life, 
Fabrizio,  I  suffered — yes  !  but  now " 

"  And  I  must  leave  you  to-morrow,  knowing  all  that  I  know  ! " 
Fabrizio  exclaimed. 

Cristina  shrugged  her  shoulders.     "  Ci  vuole  pazienza!"  she 


200  TEMPTATION 

replied.  "You  will  return  here  in  a  few  weeks,  and  we  must 
both  of  us  be  prudent,  Fabrizio  mio,  very  prudent,  for  your  sake 
as  well  as  for  mine.  Ugo  has  no  suspicions,  of  that  I  am  certain. 
He  thinks  only  of  so  arranging  matters  as  to  be  able  to  follow 
the  San  Felice  to  Rome.  Ebbene,  so  much  the  better  for  us ! 
But,  in  the  meantime,  we  must  be  prudent,  I  tell  you,  and  you 
must  be  patient.  Tout  vient  a  qui  sait  attendre.  Remember 
your  position  with  regard  to  Ugo.  That  position  must  not 
be  destroyed,  you  understand?  We  must  wait,  amico  mio. 
When  you  return — or  in  Rome — perhaps  we  shall  be  freer. 
And  in  the  meantime  you  will  be  guided  by  me.  Perhaps  some 
day  you  will  see  that  I  have  had  your  true  interests  at  heart  in 
not  allowing  our  love  to  interfere  with  those  interests — Zitto, 
per  caritk !  "  she  broke  off  abruptly,  and  moved  quickly  away 
from  him  down  the  gallery. 

"  Cristina — wait ! "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "  Why  do  you  go  ? 
there  is  nobody " 

"I  heard  footsteps  in  the  next  room,"  returned  Countess 
Vitali  hurriedly.  "  It  is  probably  Taddeo  coming  to  open  the 
windows  now  the  sun  is  gone  from  the  courtyard.  Let  us  go 
to  the  terrace,  Fabrizio,  to  our  usual  place.  Ugo  will  soon  be 
coming  back  from  the  farm,  and  it  will  be  better  that  he  should 
find  us  talking  together  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Of  course 
you  will  be  careful  not  to  let  him  suspect  that  I  have  told  you 
anything  concerning  this  letter,"  and  she  thrust  the  paper  into 
the  body  of  her  dress  as  she  spoke. 

Fabrizio  Vitali  followed  her  in  silence.  He  told  himself  that 
Cristina  was  right;  that  he  must  be  patient  and  wait.  It  was 
difficult  to  believe  that  his  cousin's  simple,  straightforward 
manner  was  nothing  more  than  a  manner ;  that  Ugo's  confidential 
conversations  with  him,  in  which  he  had  figured  as  an  aff'ectionate 
husband,  had  been  merely  intended  to  deceive  him  as  to  the 
real  state  of  his  domestic  affairs.  Had  Ugo  been  one  of  his 
Roman  friends,  he  would  not  have  been  in  the  least  surprised, 
and  certainly  not  in  the  least  scandalised,  that  he  had  a  mistress 
as  well  as  a  wife.  But  from  the  first  there  had  been  something 
in  his  cousin's  careless,   unsuspicious  way  of  looking  at  life  in 


TEMPTATION  201 

general  that  had  appealed  to  Fabrizio's  respect,  and,  perhaps 
unconsciously,  also  caused  him  some  envy,  even  while  he  had 
sometimes  laughed  at  him  in  his  mind  for  being  a  canipagnuolo. 
The  feeling  that  he  was  trading  upon  this  simplicity,  and  de- 
ceiving it,  had  not  been  one  of  the  least  clamorous  among  the 
scruples  of  conscience  which  Fabrizio  had  experienced  of  late, 
and  it  came  upon  him  as  something  of  a  shock  to  discover  that 
his  respect  had  been  misplaced  and  his  scruples  unnecessary. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"TJ^ABRIZIO  VITALI  had  hoped  that  some  fortunate  chance 
-^  would  have  allowed  him  to  be  once  more  alone  with  Cristina 
in  the  course  of  the  evening  preceding  his  departure.  It  was  with 
decided  regret,  therefore  that  he  learned  from  Ugo,  who  re- 
turned from  the  farm  shortly  after  he  and  Countess  Vitali  had 
settled  themselves  in  their  accustomed  seats  at  the  end  of  the 
terrace,  that  the  ailing  horse  was  fairly  on  the  road  to  recovery. 

During  the  whole  of  the  evening  Count  Vitali  appeared  to  be 
in  excellent  spirits,  and  in  no  wise  disposed  to  be  left  out  of 
the  conversation,  or,  as  was  so  often  the  case,  to  fall  asleep 
after  dinner.  It  was  natural  that  Ugo  Vitali  should  discourse 
of  the  sudden  illness  of  one  of  his  best  horses ;  and  somewhat 
to  Fabrizio's  surprise,  as  well  as  to  his  annoyance,  Cristina 
appeared  to  take  unusual  interest  in  the  symptoms  of  an  animal 
which  had  been  tactless  enough  to  get  better  instead  of  worse, 
thereby  destroying  his  hopes  that  Ugo  would  have  paid  another 
prolonged  visit  to  the  farm  that  evening. 

"  Imagine,"  Ugo  observed,  after  describing  the  treatment  for 
an  internal  inflammation  to  which  the  offending  horse  had  been 
subject,  "  the  veterinary  has  ordered  two  injections  of  morphia — 
one  every  six  hours — as  though  the  animal  were  a  Christian. 
They  say  injections  of  morphia  are  the  fashion  now,  is  it  not  so, 
Fabrizio  ?  " 

Countess  Vitali  laughed.  "  Let  us  hope  the  horse  will  not 
develop  a  craving  for  the  drug,"  she  said. 

"  That  is  what  I  said  to  the  veterinary,"  returned  Ugo.  "  Of 
course,"  he  added,  the  doses  are  very  small — scarcely  larger  than 
would  be  given  to  a  man.  I  do  not  think  they  can  make  any 
mistake  at  the  farm  and  inject  too  large  a  dose — otherwise  the 
horse  would  be  poisoned." 

Cristina's   face  showed  an  increased  interest  in   the  subject. 


TEMPTATION  203 

•*  Is  it  true  that  so  many  people  use  morphia  ? "  she  asked  of 
Fabrizio,  "  I  mean,  people  of  the  world." 

"Altro!"  he  replied,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders;  "the 
habit  becomes  more  common  every  day — at  least,  so  the  doctors 
declare.  Your  sex,  especially,  is  addicted  to  it,  Cristina.  A 
syringe  and  phial  of  morfina  are  a  part  of  the  outfit  of  many 
fashionable  ladies." 

"And  why  do  they  not  occasionally  give  themselves  an  over- 
dose by  accident  ?  "  asked  Countess  Yitali. 

"  Oh,"  replied  Fabrizio,  "  as  to  tliat,  the  doses  are  regu- 
lated. Each  fiale  contains  from  two  to  five  centigrammes,  I 
believe." 

Ugo  laughed.  "  Fabrizio  seems  to  know  all  about  it,"  he 
observed. 

"  By  a  combination,"  Fabrizio  answered.  "  The  taking  of 
drugs  is  not  one  of  my  vices,"  he  added ;  "  but  it  so  happens 
that  I  have  had  to  study  the  subject — from  the  lawyer's  point  of 
view.  There  was  a  famous  trial  some  two  years  ago — a  case  of 
suicide  or  murder  ;  wliich  of  the  two  it  really  was  the  jury  were 
unable  to  decide  unanimously — and  in  the  course  of  that  trial  I 
learned  many  particulars  concerning  the  morfina  from  the 
doctor's  evidence." 

*'  But  you  were  not  engaged  in  it  professionally — as  one  of  the 
lawyers,  I  mean  ?  "  asked  Count  Vitali. 

"Professionally— no,"  returned  Fabrizio;  "but  I  was  always 
present  in  the  Court — as  a  student,  you  know." 

"  What  would  be  a  fatal  dose  to  a  man  ?  "  inquired  Ugo. 

"Do  you  mean  by  injection,  or  taken  by  the  mouth?" 

"  Diamine !  either  way  you  please.  It  would  be  the  same 
thing  in  the  end,  I  suppose." 

Fabrizio  hesitated.  "  I  think  not,"  he  replied.  "  It  would 
be  impossible  to  inject  a  dose  which  would  prove  fatal  at  one 
time,  with  the  syringe  ordinarily  in  use.  And  if  swallowed, 
such  a  quantity  would  produce  violent  sickness,  and  very  likely 
defeat  its  own  ends — supposing  those  ends  to  be  murder,  or 
suicide." 

"  But  that  is  interesting  —very  interesting  ! "  observed  Cristina, 


204  TEMPTATION 

stopping  in  her  task  of  peeling  a  peach  and  looking  at  him. 
"  How  many  things  you  know,  Fabrizio,"  she  added.  "  Tell  us 
some  more  about  the  morfina." 

"Yes,"  said  Ugo,  "tell  us  how  you  would  set  to  work  to 
murder  somebody,  or  to  murder  yourself  with  morphia.  As 
Cristina  says,  it  is  very  interesting.  All  the  same,  I  hope 
Giovanni  will  not  murder  my  horse  !  " 

"  The  morfina  is  cumulative,"  explained  Fabrizio.  "  I  mean, 
cumulative  in  its  action."  Nothing  pleased  Fabrizio  Vitali 
better  than  to  feel  that  he  was  being  interesting,  and  he  would 
talk  on  any  topic  provided  his  vanity  were  flattered  by  seeing 
that  he  was  listened  to  with  attention. 

"  The  action  is  cumulative,"  he  repeated,  a  little  pompously. 
"That  being  so,"  he  continued,  "repeated  injections  of,  we 
will  say,  five  centigrammes  of  morfina  until  some  twenty 
centigrammes  had  passed  into  the  blood,  would  have  a  fatal 
result." 

"  Then  you  would  prefer  to  inject  the  poison,  rather  than 
administer  it  by  the  mouth  ?  "  asked  Ugo. 

"  Undoubtedly ;  if  my  object  was  to  murder  someone,"  answered 
Fabrizio  smiling.  "  Do  you  remember,"  he  added,  "  that 
diabolical  attempt  to  murder  a  man  by  challenging  him  to  a 
friendly  wrestling  bout,  during  the  progress  of  which  his  arm  was 
to  be  injected  with  curare,  by  means  of  a  tiny  syringe  his 
antagonist  kept  concealed  about  his  person  ?  Well,  the  attempt 
did  not  succeed,  because  no  good  opportunity  presented  itself  of 
using  the  syringe  unobserved.  But  a  scratch  would  have  meant 
death  in  a  few  hours — and  that  death  would  have  probably  been 
attributed  to  virulent  blood  poisoning  produced  by  some  infected 
instrument,  or  by  the  bite  of  some  insect  that  had  been  feeding 
on  putrid  matter.  Sicuro — to  administer  poison  by  injection  is 
much  the  more  practical  method — especially  in  these  days  when 
anybody  can  walk  into  a  chemist's  shop  and  provide  himself  with 
all  the  appliances  for  injecting  morfina  into  his  own  or  his 
enemy's  veins ! " 

"  But  without  a  doctor's  order  no  chemist  may  sell  poison  to 
a  customer,"  objected  Ugo. 


TEMPTATION  205 

"  No  chemist  may  sell  certain  poisons  without  a  doctor's  order 
— that  is  true,"  replied  Fabrizio ;  '*  but  unfortunately  chemists 
are  often  careless  about  the  sale  of  morfina.  Strychnine,  curare, 
and  other  poisons  are  of  course  unobtainable,  but  you — I — 
anybody  can  often  buy  from  a  chemist  our  apparatus  for  the 
injection  of  morfina,  our  pastilles  of  corrosive  sublimate  also,  if 
we  prefer  that  poison,  without  many  questions  being  asked." 

Countess  Vitali  half  filled  her  glass  from  a  flask  of  red  wine 
which  stood  near  her  on  the  table.  The  wine  remained  untasted, 
however,  and  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  Fabrizio. 

"And  the  symptoms?"  she  asked  him  suddenly.  "What 
would  the  symptoms  be,  in  the  case  of  a  fatal  dose  of — well,  of 
morfina,  we  will  say — since  you  seem  to  be  more  at  home  with 
the  morfina  than  with  the  other  drugs  you  name  ?  " 

Fabrizio  laughed.  "  I  am  not  a  doctor,  ben^  inteso"  he  replied. 
"But,  in  the  case  of  a  fatal  dose  of  morfina  administered  by 
injection,  I  have  been  told  by  doctors  that  the  symptoms  would 
closely  resemble  those  of  some  acute  intestinal  disorder,  and  that 
these  would  be  succeeded  by  unconsciousness — and  the  uncon- 
sciousness by — "  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  significantly. 

"In  fact,"  remarked  Ugo  Vitali  laughing,  "the  symptoms — 
always  excepting  the  unconsciousness,  which  I  trust  will  not  occur  ! 
— would  more  or  less  resemble  those  of  my  horse,  who  has  eaten 
too  much  young  grass  and  has  a  colic." 

"  I  am  not  a  doctor,"  repeated  Fabrizio,  "  so  I  am  afraid  I  can- 
not answer  your  questions  scientifically.  It  has  always  seemed 
to  me  an  odd  thing  that  greater  restrictions  have  not  been 
placed  on  the  sale  of  these  hypodermic  syringes  and  phials  of 
morfina.  What  is  to  prevent  a  person  from  providing  himself 
with  a  number  of  these  phials  for  administration  to  others,  or  to 
himself?     Fortunately " 

A  sound  of  glass  breaking  interrupted  him.  With  a  sudden 
movement  of  her  arm  Cristina  had  accidentally  overturned  her 
wine  glass.  Rolling  off  the  table  it  fell  with  a  crash  and  shivered 
into  little  pieces  on  the  marble  floor  of  the  dining-room,  while 
the  red  wine  spread  with  a  blood-like  stain  over  the  white  table- 
cloth. 


206  TEMPTATION 

"  How  clumsy  of  me  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  forgot  that  I  had 
just  filled  my  glass.  Luckily  the  wine  has  all  fallen  on  the 
cloth,  and  not  on  my  dress.  Yes,  Fabrizio,  what  where  you 
going  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  say  that,  fortunately,  there  are  such  things 
as  aiitopsie  to  be  reckoned  with ;  otherwise  any  one  might  poison 
his  neighbour  more  or  less  with  impunity,  as  was  the  case  in  old 
days." 

*•  Ah  ! "  exclaimed  Countess  Vitali,  "  that  is  true.  Donna 
Giulia,  for  example,  had  not  to  think  about  such  inconveniences 
as  autopsie." 

Fabrizio  raised  his  eyebrows  a  little  impatiently.  "Always 
Donna  Giulia ! "  he  thought  to  himself.  Donna  Giulia  had 
not  entered  his  mind  while  he  had  been  talking,  and  the  thought 
of  her  seemed  at  that  moment  to  be  more  distasteful  than 
usual  to  him.  He  made  no  reply  to  Countess  Vitali's  observa- 
tion, and  Cristina  seemed  indisposed  to  pursue  the  subject. 
She  appeared  to  be  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts,  and  her  gaze 
was  fixed  abstractedly  on  the  red  stain  of  the  wine  on  the  table- 
cloth in  front  of  her.  Presently  she  rose  from  her  chair,  and 
taking  Fabrizio's  arm  proceeded  to  leave  the  dining-room,  while 
Ugo,  who  was  roasting  the  end  of  a  Verginia  cigar  in  the  flame 
of  a  candle  preparatory  to  smoking  it,  lingered  behind  to  complete 
that  necessary  process. 

"Perhaps  he  will  read  the  newspapers,"  Fabrizio  said  to  her 
quickly,  as  they  reached  the  drawing-room  ;  "  and  we  can  go  out 
into  the  gardens.     It  is  my  last  evening  with  you,  Cristina  !  " 

Cristina  shook  her  head  decidedly.  "  No,"  she  replied. 
"  No,  let  us  be  prudent,  Fabrizio  mio.  After  all,  in  a  month,  six 
weeks,  you  will  return  here — if  we  are  prudent.  Be  guided  by 
me — and  have  patience." 

"  But — for  a  few  minutes  only,"  pleaded  Fabrizio.  "  To- 
morrow morning  I  go,"  he  continued ;  "  and  six  weeks  is  a  long 
time  to  wait — for  what  you  have  promised  to  give  me,"  he  added 
in  a  whisper. 

"  No  !  "  repeated  Cristina,  almost  angrily.  "  Do  not  be  a  fool, 
Fabrizio.     Would  you  risk  spoiling  everything — our  future  happi- 


TEMPTATION  207 

ness — for  the  sake  of  a  few  minutes'  folly  ?  Why  will  you 
not  trust  me  ?  As  to  these  few  weeks  during  which  we  shall  be 
separated — 1  have  need  of  them — to  think." 

"To  think?" 

"  But,  yes,  to  think  ! "  replied  Countess  Vitali  impatiently ; 
"  to  think  for  you  and  for  myself.  Via,  Fabrizio,"  she  continued, 
and  the  angry  note  in  her  voice  gave  place  to  a  soft,  caressing 
tone.  "  Do  not  tempt  me  to  give  way — before  the  time  !  Some  day 
you  will  be  grateful  to  me  for  having  saved  you  from  committing 
a  folly — from  ruining  your  own  chances — Basta  ! "  and,  turning 
away  from  him  quickly,  she  went  to  the  window  as  Ugo  Vitali, 
his  cigar  by  this  time  well  alight,  entered  the  drawing-room. 

"  Are  you  going  to  sit  out  of  doors  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  saw  his 
wife  looking  out  into  the  gardens. 

"  I  think  not,"  answered  Cristina  quietly.  "  There  is  no 
moon,  and  there  is  too  much  air  this  evening.  It  will  be  more 
comfortable  in  the  house.  You  will  not  forget,  Ugo,  that  Fabrizio 
goes  by  the  eleven  o'clock  train  to  Rome  ?  The  carriage  must 
take  him  to  the  station." 

'-*  And  we  will  accompany  him,  to  wish  him  buon  viaggio," 
said  Ugo. 

"  E  felice  ritorno,"  supplemented  Countess  Vitali,  with  a  quick 
glance  at  her  husband. 

"  Sicuro,"  agreed  Ugo ;  "  for  the  vintage,  that  is  an  understood 
thing ! " 

A  momentary  expression  of  satisfaction  passed  across  Cristina's 
face.  "  Always  supposing  that  Fabrizio  has  nothing  more  amus- 
ing to  do,"  she  observed,  indifferently.  "After  all,  we  cannot 
expect  him  to  leave  his  occupations  or  his  amusements  for  the 
sake  of  assisting  at  the  gathering  of  our  grapes.  That,  no  doubt, 
is  an  interesting  spectacle  to  us,  but  then  we  are  campagnuoUy 

Although  Countess  Vitali  had  assured  Fabrizio  that  her  hus- 
band entertained  no  suspicions  concerning  him,  she  was  as  yet 
by  no  means  certain  that  this  was  really  the  case. 

Since  Ugo  had  left  the  anonymous  letter  in  her  hands,  she  had 
found  moments  to  read  it  again  and  again  with  scrupulous  attention. 
Notwithstanding  her  assertions  to  her  lover  as  to  its  origin  and  its 


208  TEMPTATION 

scope,  she  was  persuaded  in  her  own  mind  that  the  letter  had  been 
written  with  the  intention  of  directing  Ugo's  suspicion  into  the 
right  channel ;  and  that  it  was  certainly  not  the  result  of  an 
intrigue  on  the  part  of  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  whereby  she, 
Cristina,  was  to  be  deceived  into  believing  she  possessed  her 
husband's  full  trust  and  confidence.  She  was  even  aware,  on 
thinking  the  matter  over  more  calmly,  that  in  wishing  to  make 
Fabrizio  believe  the  letter  to  be  the  handiwork  of  the  duchessa 
and  Ugo  she  had  overstepped  the  bounds  of  probability.  She 
had  remembered  how  she  had  ultimately  succeeded  in  con- 
vincing Fabrizio  that  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  had  been 
the  author  of  the  imaginary  letter  whereby  she  had  learned  that 
she  had  been  married  merely  to  enable  her  husband  to  carry  on 
an  old  liaison  with  greater  facility  and  less  risk  of  scandal ;  and, 
in  her  anxiety  to  afford  him  further  proof  of  the  existence  of  such 
a  liaison,  she  had  forgotten  that  even  a  lover's  credulity  might  hesi- 
tate before  accepting  her  assurance  as  to  the  origin  of  this  second 
anonymous  missive.  He  might  argue  to  himself  that  neither  the 
duchessa  nor  Ugo  could  derive  any  advantage  from  taking  so 
unnecessary  a  step.  Cristina  was  not  a  little  troubled  by  this 
reflection.  It  annoyed  her,  too,  to  feel  that  there  should  be  any 
flaw  in  the  tissue  of  misrepresentation  she  had  woven  so  carefully 
in  order  to  complete  her  lover's  subjection  by  affording  him 
plausible  reasons  for  stifling  the  scruples  she  had  from  the  first 
realised  that  he  possessed. 

At  the  same  time  Countess  Vitali  would  have  given  much  to 
know  what  had  really  passed  between  her  husband  and  the 
Duchessa  di  San  Felice  on  the  subject  of  the  letter.  She  did  not 
for  a  moment  believe — indeed,  she  would  have  been  incapable 
of  believing  that  Ugo  had  given  her  a  true  account  of  his 
interview  with  San  Felice.  Of  course  the  duchessa  had  read 
the  letter  ;  and  having  read  it,  of  course  she  would  have  at  once 
set  herself  to  think  who  the  lover  of  her  friend's  wife  might  be  ! 
Had  she,  Cristina  wondered,  suggested  Fabrizio  as  being  in  all 
probability  that  lover  ?  This  was  more  than  likely,  since  Fabrizio 
was  the  obvious  person  to  suggest.  But  if  this  suggestion  had 
been  made,  Countess  Vitali  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  she 


TEMPTATION  209 

had  at  all  events  succeeded  in,  if  not  altogether  banishing  Ugo's 
suspicions,  at  all  events  considerably  diminishing  them  ;  and  the 
fact  that  her  husband's  manner  towards  his  cousin  showed  no 
lack  of  its  accustomed  cordiality  did  much  towards  confirming 
this  belief. 


CHAPTER  XX 

"  T  T  OW  right  you  were,  Donna  Vittoria ! "  said  Ugo  Vitali  ; 

^  -^  "  but  then,"  he  continued,  '*  you  always  are  right.  I 
have  proved  that  many  times." 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  laughed.  "Am  I?"  she  asked.  "I 
wish  I  could  think  so — no,  I  don't  wish  anything  of  the  kind  !" 
she  added  hastily ;  "  for  if  I  did  think  so,  I  should  be  a  very 
odious  person,  which  I  hope  I  am  not ! " 

She  and  Ugo  Vitali  were  sitting  in  the  shade  of  a  group  of 
magnificent  plane  trees  in  the  grounds  of  Villa  Falconara.  A 
tea-table,  thoroughly  English  in  its  equipment  of  daintily  cut 
bread  and  butter,  scones  and  cakes,  stood  beside  them.  Of 
recent  years  the  custom  of  having  tea  in  the  afternoons  had 
become  fairly  frequent  among  the  Italians  of  her  world ;  but  the 
Duchessa  di  San  Felice  had  been  enamoured  of  the  practice  in 
the  course  of  her  repeated  visits  to  English  and  Scottish  houses 
during  the  autumns  she  had  spent  in  those  countries,  and  had 
imported  it  into  her  own  long  before  it  became  more  or  less 
recognised  by  her  compatriots. 

Ugo  Vitali  had  not  again  seen  the  duchessa  since  he  had 
sought  her  counsel  as  to  how  he  should  act  with  regard  to  the 
anonymous  warning  he  had  received.  That,  however,  was  now 
more  than  a  fortnight  ago  ;  and  every  day  which  had  passed 
had  made  him  feel  more  assured  of  the  wisdom  of  the  advice 
she  had  given  him,  and  also  of  his  own  wisdom  in  having  asked 
for  it. 

Since  Fabrizio's  departure  everything  had  gone  smoothly  at 
Palazzo  Vitali.  In  countless  little  instances,  trifling,  perhaps,  in 
themselves,  but  none  the  less  eminently  satisfactory  to  Ugo  who 
had  been  watching  anxiously  for  them,  Cristina  had  appeared  to 
be  desirous  of  showing  her  husband  that  she  appreciated  the 
confidence    he    had    displayed    in   her    by    bringing    her    the 


TEMPTATION  211 

anonymous  letter.  Every  day  she  seemed  to  be  gradually 
becoming  more  like  her  old  self.  Her  coldness,  and  her 
occasional  fits  of  ill-humour  had  disappeared ;  and,  if  she  was 
sometimes  silent  and  pre-occupied,  her  manner  had  no  longer 
that  ungracious  sullenness  which  had  so  often  wounded  and 
distressed  him. 

As  though  by  a  mutual  consent  which  had  not  needed  putting 
into  words,  the  subject  of  the  anonymous  letter  had  not  again 
been  mentioned  between  them.  Whatever  vague  suspicions  Ugo 
might  have  entertained  as  to  his  cousin  Fabrizio,  these  had  been 
completely  set  at  rest  both  by  Cristina's  demeanour  and  by  that 
of  Fabrizio  himself.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  natural  than 
that  demeanour.  Fabrizio  had  departed,  and  as  the  dirty  and 
ill-appointed  train,  considerably  behind  its  time  like  the  generality 
of  Italian  trains,  had  lumbered  slowly  out  of  the  Viterbo  station, 
Ugo  had  repeated  his  invitation  that  he  should  return  at  the 
commencement  of  the  vintage.  That  he  had  been  able  so 
quickly  to  dismiss  from  his  mind  all  suspicions  concerning  his 
cousin  had  been  a  great  relief  to  Count  Vitali.  It  would  have 
been  a  monstrous  and  almost  an  incredible  thing  had  Fabrizio 
been  so  treacherous  as  to  repay  his  confidence  in  him  as  a 
kinsman,  and  his  goodwill  towards  him  as  his  probable  successor, 
by  bringing  dishonour  upon  his  house. 

Like  the  majority  of  people  possesssing  a  generous  nature, 
Ugo  Vitali  was  always  prone  to  blame  himself  rather  than  others. 
In  the  present  instance  he  felt  that  there  were  ample  grounds  for 
self-reproach,  and  that  he  had  nobody  but  himself  to  thank  for  it 
if  his  wife  had  become  discontented  with  the  life  he  had  hitherto 
obliged  her  to  lead.  He  felt,  too,  that  his  friend  Donna 
Vittoria  considered  his  attitude  towards  Cristina  to  have  been 
egotistical,  and  that  she  had  wished  to  point  out  to  him  his  error 
in  not  having  attempted  to  put  himself,  as  it  were,  in  Cristina's 
place  and  understand  her  views  of  life  as  well  as  his  own. 

Ugo  had  not  the  least  doubt  in  his  own  mind  that  the  improved 
relations  now  existing  between  Cristina  and  himself  were  largely 
due  to  the  fact  of  his  having  promised  to  spend  a  season  in  the 
capital.     He   assured   himself  that  women  must  have  a  certain 


212  TEMPTATION 

amount  of  society,  that  they  must  be  allowed  to  feel  that  they 
were  seeing  and  being  seen  by  the  world,  if  they  were  to  remain 
happy  and  contented  at  home.  Even  his  model  among  wives 
and  mothers,  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice,  notwithstanding  the 
simple  and  comparatively  retired  life  she  had  led  since  her 
husband's  death,  was  careful  to  keep  herself  in  constant  touch 
with  the  world,  and  made  no  secret  of  the  pleasure  she  took  in 
mixing  in  the  society  of  her  own  and  other  countries. 

It  was  all  very  well,  however,  for  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice, 
who  both  by  birth  and  marriage  belonged  to  the  alta  nobtlia, 
and  whose  fortune  was  an  unusually  large  one  for  a  woman  to 
possess,  to  take  up  the  position  she  had  taken  up  regarding  the 
world.  Whenever  and  wherever  she  chose  to  go  into  that  world 
her  name  as  well  as  her  fortune  assured  her  a  cordial  welcome.  It 
might,  and  probably  would  be  otherwise  with  Count  and  Countess 
Vitali,  members  oithepiccola  nobilta  diprovincia  with  only  a  modest 
income.  There  were  comparatively  few  people  who  would  know 
that  Count  Vitali  represented  an  ancient  and  at  one  time  illus- 
trious family,  nor  that  his  blood  and  his  descent  were  far  older 
than  those  of  the  vast  majority  of  those  Roman  nobles  who 
would  in  all  probabiHty  look  down  upon  him. 

When  Countess  Vitali  had  told  Fabrizio  that  her  husband  was 
in  reality  very  proud,  she  had  for  once  in  a  way  spoken  the 
truth  ;  and  this  particular  form  of  pride,  coupled  with  the  sen- 
sitiveness it  invariably  begets,  had  exercised  more  influence  on 
Ugo  Vitali's  nature  than  he  was  at  all  aware  was  the  case.  It  had 
caused  him  throughout  his  life  to  imitate  the  tactics  of  the  snail, 
and  to  retreat  into  the  shell  of  his  provincialism  on  the  slightest 
touch  to  his  susceptibilities.  This  sensitiveness  on  her  husband's 
part  had  been  a  perpetual  source  of  annoyance  and  disappoint- 
ment to  Countess  Vitali.  Of  plebeian  blood  herself,  she  could 
neither  understand  nor  sympathise  with  it.  It  had  been  as  well, 
perhaps,  that  she  could  not  understand  it,  at  any  rate  to  the  extent 
of  realising  that  she  owed  the  fact  of  her  being  Countess  Vitali 
to  those  very  peculiarities  in  her  husband's  nature  which,  with 
some  justice,  she  regarded  as  being  both  absurd  and  exasperating. 

It  was  perhaps  strange  that  Vittoria  di  San  Felice,  with  all  her 


TEMPTATION  213 

powers  of  discernment,  should  never  as  yet  have  fully  realised  the 
extent  to  which  this  pride  and  its  accompanying  sensitiveness  had 
influenced  the  career  of  the  man  she  had  known  from  boyhood. 
She  had  always  known,  indeed,  that  Ugo  was  proud  of  his 
ancient  descent,  and  of  the  fact  that  he  held  lands  which  had 
been  owned  by  his  forefathers  long  before  Cardinal  Vitali  had 
added  to  the  fortunes  of  the  family  by  becoming  a  member  of  so 
profitable  a  syndicate  as  was  the  College  of  Cardinals  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  His  attachment  to  this  soil,  and  to  his  country 
life  had  seemed  to  Vittoria,  whose  own  love  for  the  country  and 
country  things  was  almost  a  passion,  to  be  natural  enough.  She 
had,  consequently,  sought  for  no  other  reason  for  Ugo's  manifest 
aversion  from  enlarging  his  social  sphere.  Moreover,  her  own 
position  in  the  world  being  so  undoubted  and  so  secure,  it  had 
never  been  her  custom  to  limit  her  choice  of  her  friends  and 
acquaintances  to  those  belonging  to  one  section  of  society  only ; 
and,  therefore,  the  idea  that  Ugo  Vitali  might  be  influenced  by 
other  motives  for  so  resolutely  refusing  to  spend  any  portion  of 
his  time  in  Rome  than  disinclination  to  leave  his  country 
occupations  had  never  up  to  the  present  occurred  to  her. 

Ugo  had  purposely  allowed  some  days  to  elapse  before 
acquainting  the  duchessa  with  what  he  had  every  reason  to 
believe  were  the  good  results  due  to  his  having  acted  upon  her 
advice.  Finding  himself,  however,  that  afternoon  within  a  short 
distance  of  Villa  Falconara,  he  had  been  unable  to  resist  the 
temptation  of  calling  upon  her  in  order  to  tell  her  of  these 
results. 

"  There  is  nothing  so  tiresome  as  people  who  are  always 
convinced  that  their  views  of  life  must  be  the  right  views," 
Vittoria  di  San  Felice  repeated. 

"But  it  is  true,"  Ugo  insisted.  "Whenever  I  have  followed 
your  advice,  it  has  always  proved  to  be  right.  That  is  why  I 
came  to  you,  why  I  should  always  come  to  you,  if  you  would  allow 
me  to  do  so." 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  poured  herself  out  a  cup  of  tea  with  some 
deliberation.  "That  is  precisely  what  I  should  not  allow  you 
to  dOj"  she   observed   presently.      "  Before   you  were   married, 


214  TEMPTATION 

it    was    a    different    matter ;    but    now — "    and     she    paused 
expressively. 

"  But  there  are  many  things  concerning  which  Cristina  is  not 
capable  of  giving  advice,"  returned  Ugo  quickly.  "  She  has  not 
your  experience,  duchessa,  indeed,  she  has  no  experience.  How 
could  she  have  any  ?  " 

"  Then  you  should  give  her  the  opportunity  of  gaining  some," 
replied  Vittoria. 

"  I  know.  You  told  me  so  before,  if  you  remember.  That  is 
why  I  am  going  to  take  her  to  Rome.  On  that  point,  also,  I  am 
sure  you  will  prove  to  be  right.  She  will  see  the  world ;  and  if 
she  loses  some  of  her  illusions  concerning  it,  that  will  be  so 
much  experience  gained." 

Vittoria  smiled.  She  wondered  whether  he  was  conscious  of 
a  slight  cynicism,  but  concluded  on  reflection  that  it  was  quite 
unlikely.  "Why  should  she  lose  her  illusions?"  she  asked. 
"The  world  will  probably  make  itself  very  pleasant  to  her,"  she 
added. 

Ugo  tapped  his  brown-leather  gaiters  with  his  riding  whip. 
"  We  cannot  compete  with  your  Roman  world,"  he  said  briefly. 
"We  have  no  money,  and  we  are  not  in — what  do  you 
call  that  little  red  and  gold  book  you  have  on  your  writing-table 
in  the  casino  ?  " 

"  The  Almanach  de  Gotha,  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Vittoria  di 
San  Felice  laughing.  "Well,  my  friend,  and  what  does  that 
matter?  You  are — yourselves — are  you  not.  Of  course  Rome 
has  become  very  vulgar — horribly  vulgar ;  and  every  impossible 
foreigner — American,  English — what  you  will,  whom  even  London 
is  not  yet  vulgar  enough  to  receive,  for,  after  all,  London  still 
likes  something  beside  mere  dollars — comes  to  Rome ;  by  dint 
of  feeding  the  Romans  an  adventurer  can  go  everywhere ;  and  if 
she  is  a  woman,  and  under  sixty,  probably  marries  a  Roman 
prince.  All  the  same,  there  are  Romans  and  Romans  you  under- 
stand. We  are  not  all  of  us  vulgarised,  even  yet,  either  in  our 
manners  or  in  our  blood  ! " 

"In  Rome  it  will  always  be  remembered  that  Cristina  was, 
well,  Frezzi's  daughter,"  said  Ugo.     "  Even  here,  at  Viterbo " 


TEMPTATION  215 

"Caro  Vitali,"  interrupted  Vittoria,  "you  are  altogether  too 
old-fashioned  in  your  ideas  !  You  are  thinking  of  the  Rome  of 
fifty  years  ago,  which  you  have  heard  about  from  your  father, 
probably.  Besides,"  she  added,  with  a  smile,  "  the  fact  of  your 
wife  having  been  born  as  she  was  can  be  nobody's  business  but 
your  own  !  You  did  not  marry  her  under  the  impression  that 
you  were  marrying  a  woman  with  sixteen  quarterings — no? 
Believe  me,  in  these  days  the  absence  of  money  is  resented  much 
more  deeply  than  the  absence  of  quarterings.  All  the  same,  I 
do  not  imagine  that  you  will  want  to  compete  with  the 
Americans,  and  become  a  species  of  ciiciiia  economica  for  that 
section  of  Roman  society  that  runs  about  the  city  in  search  of 
free  dinners." 

Ugo  laughed.  "  Scarcely  ! "  he  replied.  "  My  cousin  Fabrizio 
has  been  telling  us  about  that  phase  of  life  in  Rome." 

"  Ah,"  observed  Vittoria  di  San  Felice ;  "  your  cousin.  Is  he 
still  with  you  ?  "  she  asked,  after  a  slight  pause. 

"  No,  he  left  us  some  days  ago  ;  nearly  a  fortnight  ago,  indeed." 
The  duchessa  seemed  as  though  she  were  about  to  ask  another 
question,  but  suddenly  she  checked  herself.  She  would  have 
liked  to  know  if  Fabrizio  Vitali's  departure  had  been  in  any  way 
due  to  the  hint  she  had  given  Ugo  in  the  course  of  their  last 
conversation  together. 

"  It  is  no  affair  of  mine,"  she  thought,  and  reproved  herself  for 
her  curiosity. 

"  But  he  is  to  return  to  us  for  the  vintage,"  proceeded  Ugo. 
This  time  Vittoria  was  unable  to  repress  a  slight  movement  of 
surprise. 

"  Your  cousin  did  not  strike  me  as  being  particularly  interested 
in  that  kind  of  thing,"  she  remarked  drily. 

"I  don't  suppose  he  is,"  returned  Ugo  smiling  ;  "but  at  any 
rate,  from  his  point  of  view,  he  would  miss  nothing  by  being  out 
of  Rome  in  September.  I  am  glad  he  is  coming  back  to  us. 
He  amuses  Cristina.  Do  you  know.  Donna  Vittoria,  that  until 
he  came  to  us  I  had  no  idea  my  wife  took  so  much  interest 
in—" 

"  In  what  ?  "  asked  Vittoria  abruptly. 


216  TEMPTATION 

"Oh,  in  books  and  intellectual  things  generally.  You  will  say 
that  I  ought  to  have  known  it ;  but  those  things  are  not  much  in 
my  line.  I  have  sometimes  sat  and  wondered  what  in  the  world 
she  and  Fabrizio  were  talking  about ! "  Ugo  added  laughing. 

Vittoria  did  not  reply,  but  looked  at  him  with  a  perplexed 
expression  on  her  face. 

"  And  so  he  is  coming  back  to  pay  you  another  long  visit," 
she  observed,  presently,  conscious  of  having  nothing  more 
definite  which  she  could  permit  herself  to  say. 

"You  see,"  said  Ugo,  "my  cousin  Fabrizio  is  my  nearest 
relative.     If  anything  were  to  happen  to  me,  he  would  inherit." 

"  My  dear  Vitali ! "  exclaimed  Vittoria,  almost  angrily,  "  what 
nonsense  are  you  talking  ?  You  are  a  strong  robust  man,  not  a 
delicate  town-bred — well — "  she  broke  off  abruptly.  "  One  does 
not  wish  to  make  comparisons.  Besides,  who  is  to  say  yet  that 
your  wife  will  not  have  half  a  dozen  children  ?  " 

Count  Vitali  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  One  never  knows 
what  may  happen,"  he  said.  "  At  any  rate,"  he  added,  "  Fabrizio 
is  a  Vitali.  The  land  would  not  go  away  from  the  name  were 
he  to  succeed  me.  It  is  a  good  thing  that  he  and  Cristina  get  on 
well  together.  Under  the  circumstances,  it  might  have  been 
quite  the  reverse.  She  might  have  taken  a  dislike  to  him  as 
occupying  the  position  a  child  of  her  own  should  have  occupied." 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  looked  at  him  curiously.  "  I  think  you 
are  rather  premature,"  she  said,  at  length  ;  "  but,  of  course,  you 
must  know  your  own  affairs  better  than  I  can  know  them — 
especially  such  intimate  affairs  as  the  appearance  or  non-appear- 
ance of  children  of  your  own  to  come  after  you  ! "  she  added  with 
a  smile.  "All  the  same,"  she  continued,  a  little  hestitatingly, 
"  it  would  be  natural  if  your  wife  resented  your  over-readiness  to 
accept  a  cousin  as  your  successor.  But,  apparently,  she  does 
not  object !  " 

Possibly  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  had  thrown  more  meaning 
into  her  words  than  she  was  aware  of,  for  Ugo  glanced  at  her 
quickly  as  though  a  sudden  thought  had  struck  him. 

"  I  must  confess,"  he  said,  "  that  when  I  showed  you  that 
letter  I  received " 


TEMPTATION  217 

Vittoria  stopped  him  with  a  Httle  wave  of  her  hand.  "  Let 
us  be  accurate,"  she  interrupted.  "You  mean  to  say,  when 
you  wished  to  show  me  a  letter  the  contents  of  which  I 
refused  to  know." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ! "  returned  Ugo.  '*  You  are  quite  right, 
duchessa.  I  do  not  forget  your  delicacy  on  that  occasion.  I 
told  my  wife  of  it." 

Vittoria  started  a  little.  "  You  told  her  that  you  had  consulted 
me  ?  "  she  asked.     "  But — was  that  necessary,  Vitali — or  wise  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  returned  Ugo,  simply. 

"Thank  heaven,"  thought  Vittoria,  "that  I  did  not  read  that 
letter !  "  Bene,"  she  continued  quietly,  "  why  not  ?  as  you  say. 
You  must  know  your  own  affairs  better  than  I  can  know  them, 
as  I  told  you  just  now.  At  least,"  she  added ;  "  you  are  sure 
Countess  Vitali  understands  that  I  did  not  read  the  letter,  and 
that  I  do  not  know  what  it  contained  ?  " 

"  But  of  course  ! "  replied  Ugo.     "  I  told  her  so." 

"  And  she  believed  you  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "  Why  should  she  not  believe 
me  ? "  he  asked.  "  But  I  was  going  to  tell  you.  Donna  Vittoria, 
a  proposito  of  my  cousin  Fabrizio,  that,  when  I  received  the  letter 
you  declined  to  read,  a  horrible  suspicion  came  into  my  mind. 
I  wondered  if  the  writer  intended  to  warn  me  against  Fabrizio. 
Fortunately,  I  followed  your  advice;  for,  had  I  not  taken  the 
letter  at  once  to  my  wife,  I  might  have  imagined  my  suspicion  to 
be  well  founded.     As  it  is " 

"  Yes  ? "  interposed  Vittoria,  slowly  stirring  her  cup  of  tea. 

"  I  saw  instantly  how  ridiculous  such  an  idea  was,"  continued 
Ugo.  "  Cristina  did  not  even  take  the  letter  seriously.  No, 
Donna  Vittoria,  you  do  not  know  what  sensible  advice  you  gave 
me  the  other  day  !  You  were  quite  right  when  you  said  that 
Cristina  would  respond  to  the  confidence  I  showed  in  her.  P'or 
a  few  moments,  I  admit,  she  was  angry." 

"  Angry  ?  at  your  telling  her  of  your  suspicion  regarding  your 
cousin  ?  " 

"  Macchl  1 "  exclaimed  Ugo.  "  I  never  mentioned  that  to  her 
^— and  afterwards   I  was  thankful  I  had  not  done  so.     No,   I 


218  TEMPTATION 

mean  she  was  angry  at  hearing  I  had  consulted  you — oh,  but  for 
a  moment  only,"  he  continued  hurriedly,  as  Vittoria's  expression 
changed  suddenly.  "  Immediately  afterwards  she  explained  why 
she  was  angry.  It  was  as  you  said,  she  resented  my  not  having 
immediately  confided  in  her.  But  she  understood — oh  yes,  she 
certainly  understood  !  and  the  proof  is  that  ever  since  she  has 
been — well,  more  like  she  used  to  be." 

"  And  your  cousin,  when  did  he  leave  you  ?  "  asked  Vittoria 
suddenly,  and  somewhat  irrelevantly. 

*'  The  next  day.  When  I  returned  to  Palazzo  Vitali  after  my 
visit  to  you,  I  found  he  had  received  a  letter  from  his  mother 
begging  him  to  go  to  her  at  once,  on  account  of  some  matter  of 
business.  Naturally,  when  one's  suspicions  have  once  been 
aroused,  no  matter  how  unnecessarily,  one  cannot  help  watching 
people's  manner,  but  indeed  there  was  nothing  to  watch." 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  made  a  slight  gesture.  "  Caro  amico," 
she  said  hastily,  "  why  do  you  enter  into  these  details  ?  Have  I 
not  said  that  I  did  not  wish  to  know  what  may  have  been  written 
in  this  famous  letter  ?  " 

"I  tell  you  because  I  feared  lest  you,  too,  had  some  similar 
suspicion,  and  I  wished  to  show  you  how  unfounded  it  would  be 
did  it  occur  to  you.  But,"  he  continued  hastily,  "  do  not  think 
that  I  came  here  this  afternoon  for  this  object.  I  came  to  tell  you 
how  right  you  were  in  making  me  trust  Cristina,  and  to  thank  you 
for  yet  another  piece  of  good  counsel.  I  shall  think  of  you  as 
another  Madonna  di  Baon  Consiglio,  Donna  Vittoria!" 

Vittoria  drank  her  tea  in  silence.  In  truth  she  did  not  know 
what  to  say.  Ugo  Vitali  had  been  very  far  from  convincing ;  so 
far  so,  indeed,  that  she  wondered  whether  he  had  really  suc- 
ceeded in  convincing  himself,  or  whether  he  were  only  attempt- 
ing to  hide  his  doubts  from  one  whom  he  suspected  of  sharing 
them. 

It  was  with  a  sense  of  genuine  relief  that  she  saw  the  frail,  spare 
figure  of  Don  Basilio  appear  round  the  corner  of  the  house  and 
turn  down  the  rose-bordered  walk  leading  to  the  trees  beneath 
which  she  and  Ugo  Vitali  were  sitting 

"  Here  is  Don  Basilio,"  she  said  quickly.     "  I  am  glad  if  my 


TEMPTATION  219 

advice  was  of  any  use,  Vitali — very  glad.  As  to  my  having  any 
suspicions,  that  would  be  absurd.  What  possible  reason  or  right 
could  I  have  to  entertain  them  ?  When  I  said  to  you  the  other 
day  that  it  was  better  for  a  woman  to  have  a  multitude  of  admirers 
than  to  be  thrown  too  much  in  the  society  of  one  only,  I  meant 
what  I  said  and  nothing  more.  After  all,  what  would  of  course 
entail  no  danger  to  Countess  VitaH,  might  possibly  not  be  so 
harmless  to  a  young  man  constantly  with  her.  Ah,  Don  Basilio, 
you  have  arrived  in  time  for  some  tea,  or  would  you  prefer  black 
coffee  ?  Count  Vitali  has  been  paying  me  a  visit.  A  propostto, 
he  has  made  a  stupendous  resolution  !  you  will  never  guess  what 
a  resolution." 

Don  Basilio  and  Ugo  shook  hands  warmly.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  the 
priest  asked.     "  To  purchase  an  automobile  ?  " 

"  Dio  me  ne  salvi ! "  exclaimed  Ugo  laughing,  "  I  prefer  my 
horses.     But  what  is  my  stupendous  resolution,  duchessa  ?  " 

"  To  pass  a  season  in  Rome,"  replied  Vittoria,  addressing  her 
chaplain.     "  Imagine,  Don  Basilio." 

Don  Basilio  felt  surprised,  and  showed  his  feelings  on  his 
face.  "Davvero?  "  he  said.  "Well,"  he  continued  smiling,  "he 
might  spend  a  season  in  worse  places.  A  young  man  should  see 
the  world.  But  you  will  feel  rather  lost  without  your  usual 
occupations,"  he  added. 

"  Altro  ! "  assented  Ugo ;  "  but  when  one  has  a  wife  to  con- 
sider— "  and  he  paused. 

Don  Basilio  smiled.  "  Most  young  men  do  not  wait  until  they 
have  a  wife  before  seeing  the  world,"  he  remarked  drily. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  Ugo  Vitali  took  his  leave.  Don 
Basilio,  sipping  his  black  coffee,  looked  at  Vittoria  di  San  Felice 
inquiringly.  Accustomed  to  read  every  expression  of  her  face, 
he  saw  that  something  was  troubling  her.  He  asked  no  questions, 
however,  knowing  that  if  she  needed  any  advice  or  assistance  from 
him  she  would  tell  him  so. 

For  some  minutes  Vittoria  remailed  silent,  apparently  engaged 
in  arguing  out  some  problem  in  her  mind.  Presently  she  looked 
up.  "  What  a  mistake  it  is,"  she  observed,  a  little  impatiently,  "  to 
meddle  in  other  people's  business  1 " 


220  TEMPTATION 

Don  Basilic  replaced  his  coffee-cup  on  the  table  and  folded  his 
hands.  "That  depends  on  the  nature  of  the  business,  and  still 
more,  perhaps,  on  the  nature  of  the  individuals  whose  business 
one  meddles  in  !  Del  resto,  it  is  part  of  my  trade  to  meddle  in 
other  people's  affairs." 

Vittoria  laughed.  "  In  their  spiritual  affairs — yes,"  she  replied ; 
"  but  hardly  in  their  domestic  affairs.  You  are  not  one  of  those 
priests  who  interfere  in  matters  outside  their  province." 

Don  Basilio  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "The  spiritual  and  the 
domestic  are  sometimes  so  intermixed,  that  it  is  difficult  to  give 
advice  regarding  the  former  without  appearing  to  interfere  in  the 
latter,"  he  said. 

"  How  right  you  are  when  you  say  that  the  nature  of  the 
individual  in  whose  business  one  may  have  been  foolish  enough 
to  meddle  is  of  more  importance  than  the  business  itself ! " 
Vittoria  remarked  thoughtfully.  "  There,"  she  continued,  smiling, 
"  is  the  training  of  the  confessional.  You  being  a  priest,  at  once 
regard  the  matter  from  the  psychological  standpoint." 

"  Scusi,  but  what  matter  ?  "  asked  Don  Basilio  ;  "  there  are  so 
many  ! " 

"Ah,  I  forgot!"  replied  Vittoria.  "I  was  following  the  clue 
of  my  own  thoughts,  a  clue  you  do  not  possess.  The  fact  is,"  she 
continued,  looking  at  the  priest  earnestly,  "  that  in  wishing  to  do 
good,  I  think  I  have  very  probably  done  a  great  deal  of  harm. 
It  is  always  like  that  when  we  amateurs  attempt  to  meddle." 

"  Not  always,"  returned  Don  Basilio  quietly. 

"No,  not  always,  perhaps.  But,  in  this  case,  something  tells 
me  that  I  have  done  harm." 

"  But  if  the  harm  was  not  intentional." 

Vittoria  smiled  a  little  sarcastically.  "  There  spoke  the  priest 
again  ! "  she  exclaimed ;  "  but  the  conventional  priest,  saying  the 
conventional  thing.  A  stupid  action  often  has  far  more  serious 
consequences  than  a  deliberately  wrong  action.  '  Intention  '  may 
be  a  very  important  detail  in  the  confessional ;  but  in  everyday 
life  it  is  of  no  account  whatever." 

Don  Basilio  laughed  gently.  "Cara  signora  duchessa,"  he 
remarked,    "I  will   not  argue  the   point.      When  you   become 


TEMPTATION  221 

practical,  I  know  by  experience  that  you  can  be  a  very  dangerous 
antagonist ! " 

"But  I  want  to  be  practical!"  said  Vittoria  eagerly;  "and 
perhaps  you  can  help  me  to  be  so." 

"I?"  and  Don  Basilio  tapped  his  soutane  significantly.  "But 
if  you  have  just  told  me  that  I  am  conventional,  with  the  con- 
ventionality of  the  confessor ! "  he  added,  with  a  twinkle  of 
humour  in  his  eyes. 

"Only,"  proceeded  Vittoria,  "we  must  agree  to  exclude 
'intentions,'  for,  in  the  present  instance,  they  do  not  matter  at 
all.     I  have  been  talking  to  Vitali." 

"  Si  capisce — since  I  found  you  together,"  observed  Don  Basilio 
drily. 

"  He  talked  about  his  wife,"  said  Vittoria. 

Don  Basilio  looked  at  her  quickly.  "  Why  does  he  come  here 
to  do  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Benissimo  !  I  see  that  you  mean  to  be  practical,"  returned 
Vittoria.  "Well,  some  days  ago  he  asked  me  for  my  advice. 
He  wanted  to  show  me  a  letter — an  anonymous  letter — he  had 
received " 

"  Also  about  his  wife  ?  " 

Vittoria  nodded.  "I  would  not  read  it,"  she  said;  "neither 
would  I  allow  him  to  tell  me  what  it  contained.  I  advised  him 
to  take  the  letter  to  his  wife,  and  to  nobody  else — certainly,  to  no 
other  woman.     Do  you  think  I  was  right  ?  " 

"  Conventionally — yes." 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  stamped  her  foot.  Then  in  spite  of 
herself,  she  laughed.  "  What  do  you  mean,  Don  Basilio  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  I  mean,  that  you  undoubtedly  gave  him  the  right  and  proper 
advice  for  a  woman  to  give  a  man,  under  the  circumstances. 
Whether  many  women  would  have  given  it  is  another  question, 
and  one  which  does  not  signify.     Only " 

"  Only — what  ?  "  asked  Vittoria,  as  he  hesitated. 

"Only  you  omitted  to  take  into  account  the  possibility  that 
Countess  Vitali's  nature  might  not  be  like  your  own." 

"  I  know  that  you  distrust  her,"  said  Vittoria. 


222  TEMPTATION 

"  Distrust ! "  echoed  Don  Basilio ;  "  that  is  not  the  term.  I 
may  be  wrong,"  he  continued ;  "  but  I  should  not  beUeve  a  word 
Countess  Vitali  said.  She  is  false — I  feel  it — and,  God  forgive 
me  for  thinking  it,  I  think  she  is  evil.  I  hope  that  Count  Vitali 
will  not  regret  taking  her  to  Rome." 

"  I  advised  him  to  do  so,"  said  Vittoria  quickly.  "  I  do  not 
know,  as  I  have  told  you,  what  that  anonymous  letter  contained, 
but  I  can  guess.  Vitali  is  too  generous  to  be  suspicious.  He 
could  not  act  dishonourably  himself,  and  therefore  cannot  imagine 
that  others  could  do  so  by  him.  In  Rome,  at  all  events,  his 
wife  will  be  thrown  with  a  variety  of  people,  and  not  with  one 
person  only,  as  has  been  the  case  lately.  All  the  same,  Don 
Basilio,  I  am  not  sure  whether  I  have  not  made  a  mistake  in 
giving  Vitali  any  advice  at  all.  When  I  gave  it,  I  did  not 
think  he  would  have  let  his  wife  know  that  he  had  consulted 
me." 

Don  Basilio  joined  the  tips  of  his  fingers  together  and  looked 
at  her  thoughtfully.     "  That  was  a  mistake,"  he  said  gravely. 

"  It  was  an  excess  of  confidence,"  returned  Vittoria. 

"It  is  the  same  thing.  And  what  has  been  the  result, 
duchessa  ?  " 

"The  result?  it  is  sufficiently  perplexing.  I  do  not  believe 
that  Vitali  himself  is  quite  sure  what  the  result  has  been. 
Apparently,  however,  his  wife  has  succeeded  in  convincing  him 
that  certain  suspicions  he  had  momentarily  entertained  regarding 
his  cousin — that  young  man  who  came  to  breakfast  here,  you 
remember — are  altogether  unfounded.  Apparently,  too,  Countess 
Vitali  is  now  exerting  herself  to  make  her  husband  happier  than 
I  suspect  him  to  have  been  lately.  I  know  I  ought  to  believe  all 
this  to  be  genuine,  but  something  tells  me  that  it  is  not." 

Don  Basilio  looked  at  her  keenly  for  a  moment.  "The  some- 
thing," he  observed,  "  is  your  friendship  for  Count  Vitali." 

"  Perhaps,"  returned  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  simply.  "  It  is 
very  natural.  I  have  known  him  most  of  my  life ;  and  it  has 
distressed  me  to  see  that  his  marriage  has  not  been  altogether 
a  success.  I  thought  that,  in  marrying  where  he  did,  he  had 
perhaps   done   more   wisely   than    if    he   had   taken  a    woman 


TEMPTATION  223 

entirely  of  his  own  class.  As  you  know,  I  have  always  tried 
to  befriend  Countess  Vitali.  I  considered  that  the  people 
here  talked  nonsense  about  her  origin,  or,  rather,  her  father's 
origin." 

Don  Basilio  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  I  do  not  quite  under- 
stand what  is  troubling  you,"  he  said,  at  length.  "  You  think 
you  have  given  bad  advice — is  that  it  ?  " 

'*  I  think  that  I  should  have  given  no  advice,"  replied  Vittoria. 
"  But  when  an  old  friend  asks  for  one's  advice,  it  is  not  easy  to 
refuse  it.  All  the  same,  as  I  could  not  tell  Vitali  all  my 
suspicions,  it  would  probably  have  been  better  to  hold  my  tongue  ! 
Moreover,  I  have  a  presentiment  of  some  evil,  some  horror.  It 
is  vague,  and  I  cannot  explain  it,  but  it  troubles  me." 

"Did  Count  Vitali  tell  you  what  his  wife  said  when  she 
learned  that  he  had  consulted  you  ? "  asked  Don  Basilio 
suddenly. 

"He  said  that  she  was  angry  at  first,  but  that  she  soon  under- 
stood why  he  had  done  so.  But,  Don  Basilio,  she  would  never 
really  believe  that  I  had  refused  to  know  the  contents  of  that 
letter ;  though  she  may  have  pretended  to  Vitali  that  she  believed 
him  when  he  told  her  so.  I  would  rather  she  had  continued  to 
be  angry." 

"  And  so  would  I,"  agreed  the  priest.  "  It  would  have  been 
more  natural." 

Vittoria  glanced  at  him.  "  You  think  that  I  should  not  have 
interfered,"  she  said,  a  little  bitterly.  "  After  all,"  she  continued, 
"I  think  so  myself.  I  have  done  no  good,  and  I  may  have 
done  Vitali  harm.  I  believe  the  writer  of  that  letter  is  a  more 
honest  friend  than  I  am." 

"  But  if  you  do  not  know  its  contents  ?  "  hazarded  Don  Basilio. 

"Mai"  exclaimed  Vittoria.  "It  is  not  difficult  to  divine 
them.  Vitali  is  being  deceived,  I  am  confident  that  he  is  being 
deceived." 

"  We  shall  see,"  observed  Don  Basilio. 

"  He  is  to  return  for  the  vintage,"  said  Vittoria  drily. 

"He— who?" 

"  But  the  cousin,  of  course  !     That  is  what  I  wanted  to  make 


224  TEMPTATION 

Vitali  understand  would  be — madness ;  and  I  had  not  the  courage 
to  tell  him  my  thoughts.     Could  it  not  be  prevented  ?  " 

Don  Basilio  considered  for  a  moment  or  two  before  replying 
to  the  question.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  presently,  "  perhaps  it  could, 
duchessa,  but  not  by  you  ;  certainly  not  by  you.  You  must  not 
place  any  weapon  in  Countess  Vitali's  hands  which  she  might  use 
against  you — and  her  husband.     Do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  turned  towards  the  tea-table  and  began 
somewhat  aimlessly  to  arrange  the  cups  on  the  silver  tray  beside 
her.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  quietly ;  "  perhaps  I  do.  Thank  you, 
Don  Basilio." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

JULY,  with  its  long,  scorching  days,  was  over,  and  had  given 
place  to  the  more  sultry  heat  of  August.  In  the  vineyards 
the  grapes  were  fast  colouring ;  the  fig  trees  were  laden  with  their 
scented  fruit  of  rich  purple  or  fresh  green ;  and  the  tall,  yellow 
spikes  of  the  ripened  maize  rustled  and  crackled  whenever  a 
faint  breeze  touched  them.  It  was  a  season  when,  for  the 
moment,  agricultural  labour  was  almost  suspended.  The  great 
white  oxen  were  standing  idle  in  their  stalls ;  the  peasants  were 
occupied  in  the  gathering  of  the  figs,  peaches,  pomegranates,  and 
all  the  divers  fruits  from  the  trees  scattered  through  the  vineyards. 
It  was  a  time  of  semi-repose  for  men,  women,  and  beasts  before 
the  beginning  of  the  grape-harvest ;  when  from  early  morning  to 
dusk  the  country  would  resound  with  laughter  and  songs  as 
row  after  row  of  vines  were  despoiled  of  their  purple  and  white 
clusters  and  the  oxen  plodded  slowly  off  drawing  the  carts  laden 
with  fruit  for  consignment  to  the  wine-presses. 

For  Cristina  Vitali,  who  took  no  interest  in  the  various  phases 
of  the  agricultural  life  passing  around  her,  the  time  which  had 
elapsed  since  Fabrizio's  departure  had  passed  monotonously 
enough.  During  the  first  few  days  that  she  once  more  found  her- 
self quite  alone  with  Ugo  she  had  set  herself  steadily  to  remove 
from  his  mind  all  lingering  suspicions  as  to  the  letter  he  had  re- 
ceived being  anything  else  than  the  attempt  of  some  mischief- 
maker  to  sow  discord  between  a  husband  and  wife,  and  in  this 
endeavour  she  had  succeeded  fairly  well.  Little  as  Ugo  knew 
the  world,  he  was  quite  aware  that  such  weapons  as  anony- 
mous letters  were  often  enough  employed  for  similar  purposes. 
Possibly,  too,  he  was  the  more  easily  convinced  that  mischief- 
making  was  the  real  object  of  the  letter,  inasmuch  as  he  knew 
that  his  marriage  had  been  regarded  with  anything  but  favour  or 
sympathy  by  his  neighbours.     Cristina,  indeed,  did  not  hesitate  to 


226  TEMPTATION 

avail  herself  of  this  argument,  and  to  point  out  to  him  that  in  all 
probability  the  letter  owed  its  origin  to  the  jealousy  or  disappoint- 
ment of  one  or  another  of  these  neighbours.  On  several  occa- 
sions when,  after  Fabrizio's  departure,  she  and  Ugo  had  reverted 
to  the  subject  of  the  letter,  Cristina  had  been  on  the  point  of 
telling  him  the  same  story  she  had  told  Fabrizio  concerning  the 
imaginary  missive  she  herself  had  received.  Ugo  would  certainly 
feel  that  it  would  be  ungenerous  on  his  part  to  brood  over 
anonymous  allegations  concerning  her  when  she  had  dismissed 
from  her  mind  as  a  matter  unworthy  of  her  consideration  an 
allegation  of  a  similar  nature  concerning  himself.  The  recollec- 
tion, however,  of  her  husband's  sudden  outburst  of  indignation 
and  anger  when  she  had  insinuated  that  he  and  the  Duchessa  di 
San  Felice  were  on  terms  of  more  than  mere  friendship  had  caused 
her  to  think  twice  before  venturing  to  include  this  latter  argument 
among  the  others  she  employed.  It  was  no  part  of  her  scheme 
to  make  Ugo  angry.  Moreover,  if  there  were  really  any  secret 
understanding  between  him  and  the  San  Felice,  her  wiser  course 
would  be  to  affect  ignorance,  at  any  rate  for  the  present,  and  until 
such  time  as  she  might  have  positive  proof  that  things  were  as  she 
had  made  Fabrizio  believe  them  to  be. 

For  the  first  two  or  three  weeks  after  Fabrizio  had  left  Palazzo 
Vitali  Cristina  felt  that  she  was  succeeding  admirably  in  the  role 
she  had  decided  to  play.  The  part,  however,  was  a  difficult  one ; 
and,  as  time  went  on,  it  became  ever  more  difficult.  The  change 
in  her  attitude  towards  Ugo — the  change  which  she  had  at  once 
settled  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  feign — brought  about  its 
natural  consequences.  Her  husband  became  once  more  her 
lover.  Perhaps  she  had  scarcely  understood  that  this  would  be 
the  result,  or  that  it  was,  indeed,  a  proof  of  the  success  of  her 
deception.  Nevertheless,  it  was  a  result  which  had  to  be  endured, 
and  the  endurance  of  it  became  terrible  to  Cristina.  Never  before 
had  she  realised  so  completely  that  the  love  she  had  for  a  brief 
space  imagined  herself  to  possess  for  her  husband  had  been  a 
purely  animal  passion  which  had  long  ago  burned  itself  out.  And 
now,  when  the  ashes  of  that  passion  were  stirred,  the  stirring  of 
them  uncovered  repulsion  and  disgust. 


TEMPTATION  227 

And  yet  it  had  to  be  endured ;  and  the  strain  both  mental  and 
physical  involved  in  its  endurance  became  ever  more  intolerable 
in  proportion  as  her  husband's  love  rekindled  under  the  feigned 
affection  she  felt  herself  obliged  to  show  him. 

At  times  it  would  startle  her  to  find  how  deeply  rooted  her 
love  for  Fabrizio  had  become ;  and  the  necessity  of  submitting 
herself  to  a  love,  which  was  not  the  love  she  longed  for  with  all 
the  force  of  her  southern  nature,  was  an  ever  increasing  torture. 
As  the  weeks  went  by,  it  had  grown  more  and  more  difficult  to 
play  the  part  she  had  thought  it  would  be  so  easy  to  assume.  To 
her,  who  had  from  her  earliest  childhood  found  excitement  and 
delight  in  deceiving  those  about  her,  and  who  had  succeeded  in 
deceiving  even  such  acute  observers  of  youthful  characters  as 
were  the  Assumptionist  nuns  at  Perugia,  it  had  seemed  an  easy 
task  to  throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  any  one  so  simple  and  un- 
suspicious by  nature  as  Ugo.  She  had  not,  however,  reckoned 
with  the  fact  that  she  would  be  called  upon  to  do  violence  to 
feelings,  the  depth  of  which  she  had  never  until  lately  recognised. 
A  disgust,  both  physical  and  mental,  with  her  husband's  love  only 
served  to  add  fresh  fuel  to  the  furnace  of  desire  burning  within 
her  to  enjoy  to  the  full  the  satisfaction  of  that  other  love  which, 
almost  unknown  to  herself,  had  taken  entire  possession  of  her. 

The  constant  strain  entailed  by  this  new  deception  quickly 
began  to  have  its  effect  upon  Cristina.  She  grew  restless,  and 
full  of  a  suppressed  irritability.  As  long  as  Fabrizio  had  been 
at  Palazzo  Vitali  she  had  been  resolute  in  adhering  to  her 
determination  not  to  accord  him  all  he  had  sought  from  her. 
It  was  a  dangerous  thing,  she  had  told  herself  again  and  again, 
for  a  woman  to  give  everything  until  she  was  more  sure  of  her 
lover  than  she,  Cristina,  was  sure  of  Fabrizio  Vitali.  She  would 
keep  Fabrizio  unsatisfied  at  any  rate  until  something  should 
happen  which  would  enable  her  to  bind  him  to  her  irrevocably. 
What  that  something  was  going  to  be,  she  had  not  up  to  now 
dared  even  to  formulate  in  her  mind.  It  was  not  until  Fabrizio 
liad  departed  that  she  reahsed  how  she,  too,  was  unsatisfied.  It 
was  useless,  worse  than  useless,  for  her  in  certain  moments  to 
shut  her  eyes  and  try  to  imagine  that  these  were  Fabrizio's  arms 


228  TEMPTATION 

which  were  around  her ;  that  the  kisses  on  her  lips  were  Fabrizio's 
kisses.  Could  her  husband  guess,  she  wondered,  that  his  love 
rekindled  by  her  pretended  return  to  that  affection  she  had 
shown  him  in  the  earlier  days  of  their  married  life,  roused  in  her 
heart  a  turmoil  of  mingled  feelings  in  which  hatred  was  beginning 
ever  more  and  more  to  predominate  ?  Sometimes  it  seemed  to 
her  that  he  must  realise  it;  that  something  of  the  passionate 
loathing  that  caused  her  almost  to  shudder  as  she  endured  his 
embraces  must  communicate  itself  to  him.  The  very  ease  with 
which  she  was  able  to  deceive  Ugo,  his  readiness  to  respond 
to  every  word  and  look — to  all  the  by-play  of  the  comedy  she 
had  set  herself  to  act  to  him — far  from  appealing  to  her 
compassion  or  causing  her  to  reproach  herself  for  trading  on 
his  love  merely  aroused  in  her  a  sense  of  impatient  contempt. 

And  the  impatience,  the  contempt  and  the  hatred  grew.  They 
grew  until  by  day  and  by  night  her  thoughts,  even  if  temporarily 
diverted  from  it,  always  flowed  back  into  one  channel.  If  Ugo 
no  longer  existed,  if  Ugo  were  dead,  Fabrizio  would  marry  her — 
must  marry  her.  It  had  been  this  thought,  and  not  the  fear  of 
detection  or  of  its  ensuing  scandal,  which  had  given  her  the 
strength  to  resist  her  own  longing  to  give  herself  wholly  to  her 
lover.  The  cautious  cunning  of  her  nature  had  warned  her 
against  being  too  hasty  to  part  with  all  she  had  to  give  to 
Fabrizio.  It  might  be  that  something  would  set  her  free  from 
Ugo  some  day ;  and  if  not — well,  then  it  would  be  simple  enough 
to  content  her  lover,  and  nobody,  least  of  all  Ugo,  need  be  any 
the  wiser.  But  if  something  should  happen  to  set  her  free,  then 
Fabrizio  must  marry  her,  and  marriage  should  be  the  price  of  what 
he  desired  from  her.  Often  she  lay  awake  in  her  own  room,  when 
the  night  was  yet  early,  pondering  over  these  two  contingencies, 
and  sometimes  it  had  happened  that,  as  she  pondered,  she  would 
hear  Ugo's  step  crossing  the  ante-room  dividing  his  apartment 
from  her  own.  And  then  she  would  shut  her  eyes  that  he  might 
not  read  in  them  all  the  disgust  and  hatred  his  caresses  let  loose 
to  riot  in  her  heart. 

Between  Fabrizio  and  herself  a  frequent  correspondence  passed. 
In  this  matter,  also,  Cristina's  habitual  caution  had  not  deserted 


TEMPTATION  229 

her.  Her  own  correspondence  was  necessarily  extremely  limited, 
being  confined  almost  exclusively  to  notes  from  neighbours,  or 
communications  from  shops  in  Rome  with  which  she  had  occasion 
to  deal.  It  was  not  advisable,  therefore,  that  Fabrizio's  letters 
should  be  known  by  the  small  household  of  Palazzo  Vitali  to 
arrive  at  the  rate  of  three  or  four  weekly,  nor  that  her  almost 
daily  letters  to  him  should  be  consigned  to  Taddeo's  care  to  be 
posted.  If  the  signora  contessa  received  small  parcels  by  the 
pacco  postak  more  frequently  than  had  ever  before  been  the  case, 
Taddeo,  when  he  brought  the  postman's  book  for  her  signature 
as  the  addressee  of  these  packets,  could  not  be  inspired  to  know 
that  they  merely  contained  a  letter  enclosed  in  a  cardboard  box ; 
neither  could  he  guess  that  the  various  missives  addressed  some- 
times to  an  imaginary  name  at  the  poste  restante  in  Rome,  and 
sometimes  to  an  equally  imaginary  individual  at  a  bookseller's 
shop  in  the  same  city,  were  in  reality  intended  for  Fabrizio  Vitali, 
who  called  for  them  at  these  addresses  with  an  unfailing  regularity. 
This  correspondence,  indeed,  became  to  Cristina  as  food  and 
drink  in  her  daily  life.  She  would  spend  hours  over  the  com- 
position of  her  letters  to  Fabrizio,  studying  her  phrases  as 
carefully  as  she  would  have  studied  her  words  had  she  been 
speaking  them  to  him.  They  were  not  impassioned  letters  such 
as  Fabrizio  wrote  to  her ;  but  they  conveyed  nevertheless  a  sense 
of  dependence  upon  him  which  was  calculated  at  once  to  appeal 
to  his  sympathy  and  compassion,  as  well  as  to  his  love.  Countess 
Vitali,  in  fact,  had  quite  succeeded  in  persuading  herself  that 
she  had  been  married  merely  to  enable  her  husband  to  continue 
an  intrigue  with  a  woman  who  had  never  been  able  to  make  up 
her  mind  to  marry  him  herself.  It  was  certain  that  Ugo's  action 
in  taking  to  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  the  anonymous  letter  he 
had  received  had  afforded  Cristina  the  best  possible  pretext  for 
completing  this  process  of  self-persuasion.  The  knowledge  she 
had  gained  of  her  lover's  character  had  long  ago  convinced  her 
that  he  would  eagerly  seize  any  excuse  wherewith  to  quiet  his 
scruples  of  conscience  with  regard  to  his  conduct  towards 
Ugo.  Nothing,  as  she  had  quickly  realised,  could  have  been  a 
more  efficacious  anodyne  for  those  scruples  than  the  knowledge 


230  TEMPTATION 

that  Ugo  was  himself  an  unfaithful  husband,  and  that  she, 
Cristina,  was  a  wife  who  was  being  systematically  wronged  and 
deceived. 

Fabrizio  Vitali's  letters  clearly  shewed  that,  however  difficult 
it  might  at  first  have  been  to  him  to  believe  in  the  existence  of 
an  intrigue  between  his  cousin  and  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice, 
he  was  now  firmly  persuaded  of  Ugo's  duplicity.  As  Countess 
Vitali  had  anticipated  would  be  the  case,  his  sense  of  com 
passion  was  fully  aroused,  and  with  it  had  been  aroused  also  a 
certain  sense  of  chivalry  none  the  less  eager  because  it  was 
misplaced. 

But  now  Cristina's  mind,  ever  restless  and  ever  calculating, 
found  itself  confronted  by  a  fresh  problem ;  one  which,  notwith- 
standing all  her  ingenuity,  she  found  herself  entirely  unable  to 
bring  within  the  range  of  an  even  possible  solution.  By  day  and 
by  night  this  problem  haunted  her,  and  seemed  as  it  were  to  eat 
its  way  into  her  very  brain.  Not  the  least  of  its  difficulties  lay  in 
the  knowledge  that  she  must  keep  the  fact  of  its  existence  rigidly 
to  herself,  that  she  could  as  yet  scarcely  venture  to  discuss  its 
solution  even  with  herself.  There  had  been  a  time  when  she  had 
nourished  a  half-formed  hope  that  Fabrizio  might  help  her  in 
effecting  its  ultimate  solution,  and  she  had  cautiously  felt  her  way 
with  him  as  one  trying  to  pass  over  unknown  and  perilous  ground. 
She  had  speedily  drawn  back,  however,  realising  intuitively  that 
neither  with  her  lover  nor  with  any  living  human  being  could  she 
share  her  problem. 

It  had  been  this  intuition,  this  knowledge  that  she  must 
grapple  alone  with  the  fleeting,  restless  thoughts  which  of  late 
had  crystallised  themselves  into  one  predominating  idea,  which 
had  caused  her,  gradually  and  almost  unconsciously,  to  seek 
inspiration  as  to  its  solution  not  from  the  living  but  from  the 
dead. 

It  was  absurd,  of  course — she  told  herself  again  and  again  that 
it  was  absurd — but  whenever  she  went  into  the  gallery  and  sat 
before  the  portrait  of  Donna  Giulia  Vitali,  after  a  short  time  had 
elapsed  during  which  her  own  eyes  seemed  to  be  held  enchained 
by  those  in  the  picture,  she  would  feel  no  longer  either  afraid  or 


TEMPTATION  ii31 

ashamed  to  formulate  her  problem  to  herself.  Those  eyes, 
always  looking  into  hers,  seemed  to  give  her  courage  to  debate 
calmly  and  dispassionately  with  herself;  they  seemed  to  draw  all 
the  horror  out  of  her  predominating  thought  as  though  by  a 
natural  process,  and  to  reveal  that  thought  to  her  under  a 
different  aspect,  no  longer  irrational  or  repulsive  but  reasonable, 
and  of  a  strange  fascination. 

After  Fabrizio's  departure  it  had  become  a  constant  habit  with 
Cristina  to  resort  to  the  gallery  and  dream  away  the  hours  of  the 
long  August  afternoons.  She  knew  that  no  one  would  disturb  or 
break  in  upon  her  meditations,  for  neither  Taddeo  nor  any  other 
members  of  the  household  of  Palazzo  Vitali  cared  to  enter  that 
apartment  unless  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  do  so.  Countess 
Vitali  could  scarcely  have  explained  to  herself  why  she  felt  an 
•ever-increasing  desire  to  be  alone  with  Donna  Giulia's  portrait. 
She  certainly  did  not  believe  in  the  tales  that  were  told  of  Donna 
Giulia's  periodical  re-appearances  on  the  scene  of  the  crime  she 
had  perpetrated  nearly  three  centuries  ago.  The  supernatural 
appealed  to  her  as  little  as  it  does  to  the  vast  majority  of  Italians, 
which  is  tantamount  to  saying  that  it  did  not  appeal  to  her  at  all, 
but  left  her  both  incredulous  and  indifferent.  For  some  time, 
however,  she  had  experienced  a  strange  pleasure  in  allowing  her 
mind  to  dwell  upon  the  tragedy  in  which  Donna  Giulia  Vitali  had 
played  so  prominent  a  part.  The  story,  it  was  true,  was  little 
more  than  a  tradition.  The  papers  and  manuscripts  of  Casa 
Vitali,  of  which  Ugo  possessed  a  considerable  collection,  and 
which,  owing  to  the  accident  of  his  father's  only  brother  having 
taken  an  intelligent  interest  in  such  things,  were  in  fairly  good 
order,  contained  neither  record  of  nor  allusion  to  Donna  Giulia's 
crime,  although  among  the  documents  of  that  period  there  were 
numerous  letters  written  by  Donna  Giulia  herself,  by  her  more 
famous  sister,  Donna  Olimpia  Pamphili,  Princess  of  San  Martino, 
and  by  other  members  of  the  Maidalchini  family;  as  well  as  auto- 
graph epistles  in  the  handwriting  of  their  apostolic  brother-in-law, 
Pope  Innocent  X.  The  Vitali,  no  doubt,  had  been  careful  to  destroy 
any  documentary  evidence  of  the  domestic  tragedy  which  had 
taken  place  within  the  walls  of  their  palace  at  Viterbo ;  but  they 


232  TEMPTATION 

had  been  unable  to  exercise  a  similar  discretion  in  the  muniment- 
rooms  of  their  neighbours.  The  entire  story  of  Donna  Giulia's 
love  intrigue  with  her  husband's  elder  brother,  and  her  subsequent 
agreement  with  her  husband  to  rid  herself  of  her  lover  by  poison- 
ing him  and  thus  to  place  her  husband  in  possession  of  his 
brother's  inheritance,  had  been  duly  chronicled  by  a  contemporary 
writer  belonging  to  a  Viterbese  family  which  had  at  that  time  been 
nearly  as  powerful  as  the  Vitali  themselves,  although  it  could  not 
boast  of  a  near  connection  with  the  reigning  pontiff.  This 
document  had  been  copied  by  various  students  of  medieval  history. 
It  had  already  become  to  all  intents  and  purposes  public  property 
when  scarcely  more  than  a  century  had  elapsed  since  Donna 
Giulia,  acting  in  accordance  with  the  deliberations  of  a  consiglio  di 
famiglia,  murdered  the  man  whose  mistress  she  had  been  for 
several  years  by  a  gradual  process  of  poisoning. 

Cristina  Vitali  would  certainly  have  been  unable  to  explain, 
even  to  herself,  why  her  frequent  visits  to  Donna  Giulia's  portrait 
seemed  to  exercise  some  peculiar  influence  over  her  ;  nor,  indeed, 
could  she  have  accurately  described  that  influence.  She  was  only 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  when  she  was  alone  in  the  gallery  the 
eyes  of  the  portrait  seemed  to  be  following  her  every  movementi 
and  that  she  had  no  longer  the  sense  of  being  the  only  occupant 
of  the  room.  This  feeling,  however,  was  a  secondary  one.  What 
she  realised  more  definitely  was  a  mental  rather  than  a  physical 
influence.  Her  thoughts,  which  at  other  times  would  revolve 
restlessly  and  incoherently  round  an  idea  as  yet  but  partially  con- 
ceived, seemed  as  it  were  to  be  set  in  order  for  her.  Her  mind 
no  longer  turned  with  fear  and  dismay  from  that  persistent  idea 
which  lurked  like  a  shadow  in  its  innermost  recesses,  but  welcomed 
it  and  cherished  it  lovingly.  Had  not  Cristina  been  absolutely 
ignorant  of  all  the  modern  revivals  of  ancient  occultism,  it  might 
have  occurred  to  her  that  perhaps  she  was  deliberately  opening 
the  gates  of  her  mind  to  the  entry  of  occult  influences.  As  it  was, 
she  was  entirely  unconscious  that  she  was  doing  any  such  thing. 
Although  she  knew  vaguely  that  there  was  a  numerous  and  rapidly 
increasing  body  of  people  in  Italy  which  occupied  itself  with 
spiritism  in  all  its  various  forms,  the  subject  had  never  come 


TEMPTATION  233 

within  her  horizon  ;  consequently,  it  would  never  have  entered 
into  her  head  to  ascribe  to  some  occult  influence  that  strange 
sensation  of  relief  and  satisfaction  at  finding  herself,  when  alone 
with  Donna  GiuHa's  portrait,  able  to  reflect  calmly  and  remorse- 
lessly upon  the  possibility  of  carrying  into  effect  a  scheme  upon 
which  at  other  times  her  thoughts  would  refuse  to  dwell  except  in 
an  unconnected  and  disorderly  manner. 

Whether  some  occult  powers  were  in  reality  exercising  their 
influence  over  her  mind,  or  whether  she  herself  was  gradually 
training  her  mind  to  accustom  itself  to  the  reception  of  a  terrible 
idea,  the  fact  remained  that  Cristina  now  regarded  her  repeated 
meditations  in  Cardinal  Astorre's  apartments  in  Palazzo  Vitali 
as  a  necessity  of  her  everyday  life.  But,  notwithstanding  the 
mental  satisfaction  she  was  sensible  of  deriving  from  her  half 
unconscious  communings  with  the  portrait  of  her  husband's 
ancestress,  she  felt  that  the  solution  of  the  problem  which  occupied 
her  mind  was  as  far  removed  as  ever.  When  they  were  alone 
together  at  dinner  Countess  Vitali  would  often  sit  in  silence, 
gazing  at  Ugo.  He  was  so  strong,  she  said  to  herself  impatiently — 
so  healthy — like  a  healthy  animal  in  its  prime.  Would  anything 
ever  happen  to  take  him  out  of  her  life — anything  natural  ?  It 
was  all  very  easy  for  Donna  Giulia — but,  in  these  days,  when 
healthy  people  died  suddenly,  there  were  enquiries,  and  doctors 
opened  the  bodies. 

Often  Ugo  would  notice  his  wife's  abstraction,  and  then 
he  would  begin  to  talk  abont  their  approaching  season  in 
Rome. 

Then  Cristina  would  rouse  herself  from  her  meditations. 
She  was  determined  that  she  would  keep  him  in  a  good  humour, 
and  unsuspicious ;  unsuspicious  of  Fabrizio,  of  her,  and  of  her 
secret  thoughts,  those  thoughts  which  now  never  left  her  except 
when  she  slept,  and  which  even  then  would  often  haunt  her 
dreams.  It  was  terrible  to  have  to  work  alone  to  gain  her 
object !  She  had  hoped  at  first  that  Fabrizio  might  have  helped 
her,  but  Fabrizio  would  not  dare  so  much,  nor  could  she 
venture  ever  to  hint  to  him  anything  of  her  purpose.  He  would 
turn  from  her  in  horror,  and  yet  she  would  be  carrying  out  that 


234  TEMPTATION 

purpose  for  his  happiness  as  well  as  for  her  own.  If  she  could 
succeed  in  removing  Ugo  from  their  path,  would  she  not  be 
giving  her  lover  money,  lands,  rank,  and  herself? 

By  degrees  the  primary  incentives  which  had  influenced  her, 
the  desire  to  escape  from  the  narrow  surrounding  of  a  provincial 
life,  to  force  for  herself  an  entrance  into  a  wider  sphere  in 
which  it  would  be  possible  to  gratify  her  ambitions,  and  in 
which  the  beauty  she  was  fully  conscious  of  possessing  would 
open  out  for  her  an  easy  path,  had  assumed  a  secondary  place 
in  her  mind.  It  was  only  after  Fabrizio  Vitali's  departure,  how- 
ever, that  she  fully  realised  the  position  into  which  she  had 
almost  unconsciously  drifted,  and  knew  that  she  loved  him  with 
a  love  she  had  never  believed  herself  capable  of  feeling.  And 
now  that  she  did  realise  the  fact  that,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
this  love  had  come  to  her,  she  was  resolved  sooner  or  later  that 
all  obstacles  to  its  enjoyment  should  be  removed.  The  fear 
she  had  formerly  felt  of  allowing  her  mind  to  dwell  upon  the 
only  event  which  could  satisfactorily  remove  the  chief  obstacle  to 
her  lover's  and  her  happiness  was  now  almost  entirely  absorbed 
in  the  thought  that  by  bringing  about  its  removal  she  would  be 
securing  to  Fabrizio  the  position  which  she  was  convinced  that 
he  had  always  secretly  coveted.  She  told  herself  again  and 
again  that  she  was  working  for  Fabrizio's  cause ;  that  Ugo  ha(l 
proved  himself  to  be  quite  unworthy  of  the  place  he  occupied 
All  these  reflections,  however,  brought  the  practical  solution  of 
the  principal  problem  which  confronted  her  no  nearer.  Ugo  was 
in  the  prime  of  life,  to  all  appearances  an  absolutely  robust 
and  healthy  man,  leading  the  active  and  regular  life  which  makes 
for  health  and  longevity.  It  was  obviously  absurd  to  rely  upon 
the  unexpected  happening,  some  accident  or  illness.  Countess 
Vitali  had  certainly  never  read  the  works  of  "  George  Eliot  " ;  nor, 
probably,  had  she  even  heard  of  that  giantess  among  modern 
English  novelists.  Nevertheless,  she  unconsciously  shared  the 
opinion  of  Mrs  Poyser  to  the  effect  that  individuals  not  wanted 
in  this  world  are  not  wanted  in  the  next ;  and  she  felt  that  any 
fortunate  chance  intervening  to  remove  her  husband  elsewhere  was 
not  worth  taking  into  account. 


TEMPTATION  255 

In  the  meantime,  the  days  passed  monotonously  enough  at 
Palazzo  Vitali.  During  the  hot  hours  of  the  long,  August 
afternoons  Cristina  would  often  pace  restlessly  through  the 
deserted  and  darkened  rooms  of  the  cardinal's  apartment,  and 
her  steps  would  be  drawn,  as  though  by  some  invisible  magnet, 
to  that  end  of  the  gallery  where  the  portrait  of  Donna  Giulia 
hung.  Ugo,  as  usual,  was  seldom  within  doors,  and  seemed 
to  devote  himself  more  than  ever  to  the  care  of  his  property. 
His  absence  was  always  a  relief  to  Cristina.  During  those  hours 
she  felt  that  she  was  free,  that  she  need  no  longer  play  a  part. 
She  could  reason  with  herself,  and  with  Donna  Giulia.  The 
portrait  in  the  gallery  had  become  a  companion  to  her,  so  much 
so  that  at  times  she  would  forget  that  it  was  merely  a  piece  of 
painted  canvas.  The  eyes  seemed  to  read  her  thoughts,  and 
occasionally  even  to  answer  them. 

One  afternoon,  it  was  the  festa  of  the  "  Ferragosto,"  the  Feast 
of  the  Assumption,  than  which  throughout  Italy  there  is  no  more 
popular  holiday,  and  Cristina  was  alone  in  the  gallery.  The  post 
had  brought  her  a  letter  from  Fabrizio,  and  she  had  been  reading 
and  re-reading  it  as  she  sat  in  one  of  the  heavy,  gilded  chairs 
with  their  faded  damask  coverings  which  were  ranged  at  intervals 
along  the  sides  of  the  room.  Presently  she  folded  the  letter  in 
its  envelope  and  slipped  it  into  the  bosom  of  the  white  cashmere 
dress  she  was  wearing.  As  she  did  so  she  looked  up,  and  her 
eyes  met  those  of  the  portrait  iixed  upon  her  with  their  mocking 
smile. 

"  Why  can  you  not  show  me  the  way  ?  "  she  exclaimed  suddenly, 
unconscious  that  she  spoke  the  words  aloud.  Rising  from  her 
chair  she  crossed  the  room  and  stood  beneath  the  picture,  her 
back  turned  to  the  double  doors  at  the  further  end  of  the  gallery. 
"You  did  it,"  she  muttered  almost  angrily,  "and  you  are  always 
silent — always !  If  it  is  true  that  your  spirit  lives,  somewhere, 
why  can  you  not  help  us,  Fabrizio  and  me,  and  show  me  a 
way  ?  " 

"Cristina!" 

Cristina  started  and  turned  hastily  as  she  heard  her  husband's 
voice.     He  had  entered  the  gallery  by  the  doors  behind  her,  and 


236  TEMPTATION 

now  stood  a  few  paces  from  her,  looking  at  her  with  astonish- 
ment. 

'*  Do  you  know  that  you  were  talking  to  yourself  ? "  he  asked. 
"  I  could  not  quite  catch  your  words,  but  you  were  certainly 
talking  to  yourself.     It  is  a  dangerous  habit." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  with  a  half-dazed  expression.  Then  she 
laughed  suddenly,  "  Why  do  you  laugh  ? "  she  said  to  him, 
suspiciously.     "  Are  you  laughing  at  what  you  heard  me  say  ?  " 

Ugo  stared  at  her.  "  It  was  you  who  laughed,  not  I ! "  he  said, 
"  and  I  do  not  know  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  Cristina,"  he 
added  quickly.  "  I  never  heard  you  laugh  like  that.  It  was  like 
somebody  else  laughing,  not  you  at  all ! " 

With  an  effort  Countess  Vitali  recovered  herself.  "  You 
startled  me,"  she  said  lightly.  "  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were  in 
the  room.  I  suppose  I  laughed  unconsciously,  and  so  thought 
that  it  was  you  who  laughed.  Sicuro  !  I  was  thinking  of  Donna 
Giulia  when  you  came  in,  and  I  daresay  I  thought  aloud,  which, 
as  you  say,  is  a  bad  habit." 

Ugo  Vitali  smiled.  "What  do  you  want  of  Donna  Giulia?" 
he  asked.  "  If  my  ears  did  not  deceive  me,  you  said,  '  Why  can 
you  not  show  me  the  way?'  I  do  not  think  I  should  select 
Donna  Giulia  as  a  guide,"  he  added. 

Cristina  gave  him  a  rapid,  furtive  glance,  and  then  she 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Sciocchezze ! "  she  said  indifferently. 
"I  had  been  thinking  of  your  mysterious  ancestress,  that  is 
quite  true.  But  I  had  also  been  thinking  of  something  more 
prosaic;  that  is,  of  the  cut  of  a  new  dress  which  does  not 
please  me.  I  suppose  I  unconsciously  appealed  to  Donna  Giulia 
to  help  me  out  of  the  difficulty ! " 

Ugo  laughed.  "Is  that  all?"  he  observed.  " I  am  relieved," 
he  continued,  "  for  really,  when  I  heard  you  laugh  it  startled  me. 
It  was  like — well,  I  do  not  know  what  it  was  like,  but  like  some- 
thing evil." 

"  Grazie ! "  said  Cristina  mockingly. 

"  That  is  why  it  startled  me,"  returned  Ugo.  "  It  was  as  if 
somebody  else  were  laughing,  through  you — somebody  quite 
different.     Oh,  I  cannot  explain,  and  no   doubt  it  was  all  my 


TEMPTATION  237 

imagination,  and  that  the  laugh  was  not  like  your  own  laugh 
because  you,  also,  were  startled  at  finding  I  was  in  the 
room." 

Cristina  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  No  doubt  it  was  imagina- 
tion," she  said,  at  length j  "indeed,  what  else  could  it  have 
been?" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

T  T  was  now  late  in  August,  and  every  day  the  clusters  of  grapes 
■*■  hanging  in  the  vineyards  were  turning  a  deeper  purple  or 
a  richer  amber  colour,  according  to  the  variety  of  the  vines. 
The  excessive  heat  of  that  summer  had  brought  all  the  fruits  ot 
the  earth  more  quickly  to  maturity ;  and  the  forward  condition 
of  the  grapes  made  it  evident  that  the  vintage  must  commence 
nearly  a  fortnight  earlier  than  was  usually  the  case. 

Ugo  Vitali  was  happier  in  his  mind  than  he  had  ever  been 
since  the  first  year  of  his  marriage.  Although  at  times  Cristina 
would  be  silent  and  preoccupied,  there  were  hours  when  she 
was  all  that  she  had  been  in  the  earlier  days  of  their  married 
life.  Like  many  proud  and  reserved  natures,  Ugo  was  keenly 
sensitive,  and  it  needed  but  little  effort  on  his  wife's  part  to 
make  him  respond  to  the  affection  which  he  never  doubted  was 
again  beginning  to  reassert  itself  after  a  temporary  estrangement 
most  probably,  as  he  assured  himself,  caused  by  the  disappoint- 
ment she  had  suffered  in  not  having  children  having  reacted 
upon  her  health. 

It  was    perfectly   in    accordance    with   his    own    nature    and 

temperament  that  Ugo  Vitali,  while  rejoicing  at  the  change  in 

his  wife's  demeanour,  should  reproach  himself  for  having  made 

her  life  unnecessarily  dull  and  monotonous.     He  did  not  attempt 

to  disguise  from  himself  the  fact  that  he  had  in  the  first  instance 

been  mistaken  in  the  character  of  the  woman  he  had  married. 

He  had,  it  was  true,  been  desperately  enamoured  of  Cristina's 

beauty;  but  he  had  also  calculated  that  in  marrying  her,  the 

daughter  of  a  self-made  man,  a  girl  who  had  not  been  brought 

up  with  any  expectations  of  playing  a  part  in  the  world  of  society, 

he  was  marrying  a  wife  who  would  be  content  to  lead  the  life 

from  which  he  had  resolved  he  would  never  dissociate  himself. 

Ugo  had  long  ago  realised  that  he  had  been  mistaken  in  this 
238 


TEMPTATION  239 

calculation ;  but  he  had  never  allowed  himself  to  consider  that 
he  had  been  deceived.  Cristina,  it  was  true,  had  always  led  him 
to  suppose  that  she  asked  for  nothing  better  than  the  hfe  he 
had  offered  her.  Even  now,  after  she  had  furnished  him  with 
abundant  proof  that  she  had  in  reality  expected  something  very 
different  from  this  life,  he  was  determined  to  believe  that,  had 
she  only  had  the  satisfaction  of  being  a  mother,  she  would  never 
have  become  discontented  with  her  lot. 

Quite  unconsciously  to  herself,  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice's 
arguments  had  aroused  in  Ugo  a  very  insistent  spirit  of  self- 
reproach.  This  was  certainly  not  what  Vittoria  di  San  Felice 
had  intended  when  she  urged  upon  him  the  advisability  of 
allowing  his  wife  to  see  more  of  the  world  than  he  k'>d  hitherto 
permitted  her  to  do.  The  duchessa  had  proffered  this  advice 
foreseeing  complications  of  too  domestic  a  character  in  the  near 
future ;  complications  which  she  was  of  opinion  might  be  at  all 
events  minimised;  if  not  altogether  avoided,  were  Countess 
Vitali  to  be  surrounded  by  the  admiration  which  could  scarcely 
fail  to  fall  to  her  share  in  the  larger  world  of  Rome.  There  was, 
as  she  had  observed  to  Ugo  Vitali  when  he  expressed  his  surprise 
that  she  should  counsel  him  to  expose  his  wife  to  the  temptations 
besetting  the  path  of  a  good-looking  woman  in  Roman  society, 
safety  in  numbers. 

Unfortunately  the  hint  which  had  been  veiled  by  this  advice, 
though  it  had  altogether  escaped  Count  Vitali,  had  not  borne 
the  fruits  which  might  have  been  expected.  The  careless  indiffer- 
ence with  which  his  wife  had  treated  the  anonymous  letter 
directly  pointing  at  an  unnamed  individual  who  could  be  none 
other  than  his  cousin  Fabrizio  had  completely  disarmed  any 
suspicions  that  Ugo  might  otherwise  have  entertained.  More 
than  this,  Cristina  had,  by  a  clever  volte-face,  succeeded  in 
leading  him  to  suspect  that  she  was  jealous  of  his  friendship  with 
the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice,  and  that  in  consequence  she  con- 
sidered herself  to  be  the  aggrieved  party.  At  first  he  had  hotly 
resented  his  wife's  insinuations  as  an  insult  both  to  himself  and 
to  Vittoria.  This  resentment,  however,  had  been  quickly 
succeeded   by   a   feeling  of   satisfaction    that    Cristina    should 


240  TEMPTATION 

entertain  any  sentiment  of  the  kind,  since  the  fact  of  her  being 
jealous  of  another  woman  surely  proved  that  she  still  loved  him. 
This  last  argument,  as  any  woman  could  probably  have  told  him, 
was  absolutely  unsound ;  for  the  jealousy  of  a  woman  is  not  as 
the  jealousy  of  a  man,  and  many  women  are  jealous  where  they 
have  long  ceased  to  love. 

Ugo  Vitali  was  obliged  to  confess  to  himself  that  he  had  given 
his  wife  some  cause  to  resent  his  friendship  with  Vittoria  di  San 
Felice  when  he  had  taken  the  anonymous  letter  to  the  duchessa 
before  showing  it  to  her.  The  duchessa's  decided  refusal  to 
receive  a  confidence  which  she  had  told  him  ought  not  to  be 
made  to  any  woman  but  his  wife  had  immediately  opened  his 
eyes  to  the  false  step  he  had  taken.  He  had  taken  that  step  on 
the  impulse  of  the  moment,  but  also  as  the  result  of  long  habit, 
so  accustomed  had  he  been  to  seek  Vittoria  di  San  Felice's 
advice  in  his  difficulties,  knowing  that  hitherto  that  advice  had 
always  been  frankly  and  loyally  given  to  him.  It  had  scarcely 
struck  him  until  the  duchess  had  somewhat  bluntly  reminded 
him  of  the  fact,  that  he  had  no  right  to  seek  the  counsel  of 
another  woman  in  matters  concerning  his  domestic  affairs,  though 
there  might  conceivably  be  circumstances  which  would  justify 
him  in  confiding  the  same  to  another  man. 

It  should  not  be  difficult,  he  thought,  to  convince  Cristina 
that  she  need  feel  no  jealousy  towards  the  Duchessa  di  San 
Felice,  although  he  had  undoubtedly  acted  rashly  in  preferring  to 
confide  in  the  duchessa  before  he  mentioned  to  his  wife  the 
subject  of  the  anonymous  letter.  But  the  thought  that  ever  since 
his  marriage  he  had  persistently  refused  to  listen  to  Cristina's 
wishes,  that  he  had  condemned  her  to  lead  a  monotonous  exist- 
ence because  he  himself  found  such  an  existence  both  agreeable 
to  his  predilections  and  to  his  interests,  caused  him  to  reproach 
himself  all  the  more  severely  because  it  was  evident  to  him  that 
his  friend  and  adviser,  Vittoria  di  San  Felice,  also  considered 
him  to  have  been  not  a  little  selfish  in  his  conduct. 

One  of  the  immediate  consequences  of  this  self-reproach  was 
to  make  Ugo  almost  feverishly  anxious  to  atone  for  his  past 
shortcomings,  and  when  Cristina  displayed,  as  she  now  often  did 


TEMPTATION  241 

display,  a  return  to  her  old  affection  for  him  he  felt  that  coals  of 
fire  were  being  heaped  upon  his  head. 

Countess  Vitali  was  quick  to  perceive  all  the  workings  of  her 
husband's  mind.  None  but  she  could  ever  know  at  what  a  cost 
she  played  her  part ;  for  in  response  to  her  simulated  affection 
for  him,  all  Ugo's  former  passion  for  her  began  to  revive.  Not 
the  least  convincing  proof  to  Cristina  of  the  complete  success 
of  her  tactics  was  a  certain  estrangement  which  she  had  by  degrees 
contrived  to  bring  about  between  her  husband  and  the  Duchessa 
di  San  Felice.  Since  his  visit  to  Vittoria  when  he  had  wished  to 
acquaint  her  with  the  success  that  had  attended  the  following  of 
her  advice,  Ugo  had  not  again  gone  to  Villa  Falconara.  Cristina, 
nevertheless,  was  careful  to  let  him  see  that,  though  she  might 
have  forgiven  him  his  want  of  confidence  in  her,  she  had  not  for- 
gotten that  he  had  been  ready  to  discuss  her  with  another  woman. 
That  the  duchessa  had  refused  to  read  the  letter  or  to  be  told 
its  contents  Countess  Vitali  believed  no  more  now  than  she  had 
believed  it  when  Ugo  first  told  her  that  this  had  been  the  case. 
She  was  fully  persuaded  in  her  own  mind  that  the  San  Felice  was 
and  always  had  been  in  love  with  Ugo,  though  latterly  she  had 
quite  abandoned  all  attempts  to  persuade  herself  that  Ugo 
reciprocated  that  love.  All  the  same,  she  distrusted  Vittoria  di 
San  Felice  even  more  than  she  would  have  done  had  she  any 
reason  to  believe  Ugo  to  be  in  love  with  her.  Had  not  she, 
Cristina,  succeeded  in  silencing  Fabrizio's  scruples  of  conscience 
by  persuading  him  that  she  was  married  to  a  man  whose  pro- 
fessions of  love  for  her  were  merely  fictitious — assumed  in  order 
to  divert  suspicion  as  to  the  real  nature  of  his  friendship  with 
the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  ?  The  San  Felice,  she  argued  to 
herself,  would  certainly  pursue  the  same  tactics  with  regard  to 
Ugo.  She  would  lose  no  opportunity  of  pointing  out  to  him 
that  it  was  absurd  to  consider  himself  bound  to  a  wife, 
when  that  wife  was  in  all  probability  already  faithless  to  him. 
That  the  San  Felice  would  act  as  she  herself  had  acted  was, 
indeed,  Cristina's  principal  fear ;  and,  as  she  realised  that  Ugo's 
love  for  her  was  as  passionate  as  it  ever  had  been,  it  was  a  fear 
which  increased  daily.  She  had  amply  proved  to  herself  that, 
Q 


242  TEMPTATION 

left  alone,  she  could  effectually  banish  any  latent  suspicions  which 
Ugo  might  still  entertain  regarding  Fabrizio  ;  but  if  the  Duchessa 
di  San  Felice,  in  order  to  increase  her  influence  over  Ugo,  were  to 
play  the  part  of  the  candid  friend  and  open  his  eyes  to  the  truth, 
Countess  Vitali  trembled  to  think  what  the  consequences  must 
inevitably  be.  She  was  quick  to  see  that  Ugo  was  by  no 
means  displeased  with  her  assumed  jealousy  of  Vittoria  di  San 
Felice,  and  that  he  made  a  point  of  abstaining  from  visiting  Villa 
Falconara  in  order  to  show  her  that  this  jealousy  was  misplaced. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

TN  former  days,  before  Ugo  Vitali's  marriage,  Don  Basilic, 
-'-  domestic  chaplain  to  Casa  San  Felice,  was  a  frequent 
visitor  at  Palazzo  Vitali.  He  had  been  on  intimate  terms  with 
the  late  count;  and,  indeed,  was  supposed  at  one  time,  during 
the  period  immediately  succeeding  the  fall  of  the  papal  govern- 
ment, to  have  exercised  considerable  influence  over  him.  In 
those  days  feeling  ran  high  between  the  supporters  of  Italian 
unity  and  the  adherents  to  the  temporal  sovereignty  of  the  pope. 
As  in  France  at  the  present  time,  men  who  were  anything  but 
religious  used  religion  as  a  political  lever,  according  to  the  ends 
they  had  in  view ;  and,  as  in  the  France  of  to-day,  men  who  were 
truly  religious  and  not  merely  "  clericali "  formed  a  group  of 
moderates  which  recognised  that  medieval  abuses  could  no 
longer  exist  side  by  side  with  modern  progress ;  and  that  the 
Church,  like  every  other  human  body,  must  adapt  herself  to  the 
new  order  of  things  gradually  created  by  the  changing  needs  and 
conditions  of  society. 

The  traditions  of  Casa  Vitali,  naturally  enough,  were  all  in 
favour  of  the  recently  defunct  papal  administration  and  its 
temporal  claims.  For  centuries  Viterbo  had  been  one  of  the 
chief  cities  of  the  States  of  the  Church — a  residence,  albeit 
occasionally  a  forced  one,  of  former  sovereign  pontiffs ;  and 
Casa  Vitali  itself,  although  proud  of  its  unbroken  descent  from 
one  of  the  great  baronial  Roman  families  which  dictated  terms 
to  popes  and  councils,  owed  its  possessions  in  and  around  the 
ancient  city  to  the  fact  that  one  at  least  of  its  members  had  been 
a  Prince  of  the  Church. 

Don  Basilio,  although  a  priest,  did  not  belong,  and  never  had 
belonged,  to  the  so-called  clerical  party.  He  was  both  a  learned 
and  a  good  man.  Something  of  a  mystic,  he  possessed  the 
detached  mind  of  a  mystic,  and  was  apt  to  regard  the  doings  of 

243 


244  TEMPTATION 

human  society  from  a  purely  objective  point  of  view.  Politics, 
therefore,  interested  him  but  little ;  and  ecclesiastical  politics  he 
held  in  particular  detestation.  Had  it  not  been  for  his  mental 
energy  and  for  a  profound,  if  somewhat  cynical,  sympathy  with 
his  fellow-creatures,  Don  Basilio  would  have  made  a  good 
monk — of  the  contemplative  kind.  As  it  was,  he  had  devoted 
himself  to  being  of  use  to  his  fellow-creatures  in  the  world,  so  far 
as  his  somewhat  narrow  sphere  allowed  of  his  being  so.  Many 
of  his  acquaintances  wondered  that  he  did  not  care  to  enlarge 
that  sphere,  and  that  he  was  contented  to  remain  a  simple  parish 
priest  and  the  private  chaplain  to  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  and 
her  household.  Only  his  intimate  friends,  and  they  were  very 
few,  knew  that  he  was  constantly  striving  to  enlarge  his  sphere. 
Vittoria  di  San  Felice  knew  it,  and  so  did  half  a  dozen  others. 
There  were  men,  and  one  woman,  whom  he  had  never  seen  in  the 
flesh,  but  with  whom  he  corresponded,  and  whose  fellow-worker 
he  was ;  although,  as  a  priest  of  the  Catholic  Church,  he  set  forth 
upon  his  explorations  of  that  unseen  world,  which  he  knew  to  be 
always  around  him,  from  a  slightly  different  starting-point.  Of 
these  matters  he  rarely  spoke.  None  knew  better  than  he  how 
jealous  is  the  Church  of  her  spiritual  preserves,  how  severely  she 
discountenances  and  condemns  all  attempts  on  the  part  of  her 
children  to  trespass  beyond  the  narrow  boundaries  which,  for  the 
better  safe-guarding  of  her  material  interests,  she  has  been 
compelled  to  erect. 

Don  Basilio  was  driving  his  old  pony  slowly  up  the  hill  to  the 
old  battlemented  gateway  of  Viterbo  known  as  the  Porta  San 
Giovanni.  The  pony,  and  the  phaeton  which  was  its  con- 
temporary and  now  rattled  and  jingled  over  the  loose  stones  on 
the  hill-side,  had  been  gifts  from  the  old  Duca  di  San  Felice  at 
the  time  when  Don  Basilio  undertook  the  charge  of  the  parish 
church  some  two  miles  from  Villa  Falconara — a  thoughtful  gift 
presented  with  the  object  of  saving  him  from  the  obligation  of 
using  his  legs  when  he  came  over  to  the  villa  to  say  mass,  or  to 
hear  confessions  on  the  eve  of  the  great  festivals  of  the  Church. 
Business  took  him  to  Viterbo  that  morning,  and  an  interview 
with  the  bishop  on  matters  connected  with  his   parish.     The 


TEMPTATION  245 

pony  had  scarcely  commenced  the  gradual  ascent  to  the  city 
walls  when  she  stopped  abruptly,  spreading  out  her  fore-legs  in 
front  of  her  and  turning  her  head,  Don  Basilio  smiled,  and 
gathering  up  the  reins  twisted  them  through  the  rings  of  the 
harness.  The  pony  had  done  the  same  thing,  on  the  same  spot, 
for  the  last  ten  years ;  and  Don  Basilio  had  never  failed  to  take 
the  hint  given  him  by  getting  out  and  walking  up  the  hill  by  her 
side.  The  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  cantering  behind  him  caused 
him  to  look  round,  to  find  Count  Vitali  rapidly  overtaking  him. 

Ugo  was  mounted  on  the  young  chestnut  horse  he  had  ridden 
on  the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  Villa  Falconara  the  day  after  his 
receipt  of  the  anonymous  letter.  The  animal  was  going  quietly 
enough  now,  and  Ugo  drew  up  at  the  priest's  side. 

"  Don  Basilio,  buon  giorno ! "  he  said,  raising  his  straw  hat  a 
little  as  he  spoke.  "  What  brings  you  to  Viterbo  on  such  a  hot 
morning?     You  breakfast  with  us,  of  course  !  " 

Don  Basilio  shook  his  head.  "  I  have  business  with  Monsig- 
nore,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  afterwards,  before  I  return  home,  I  will 
pay  you  and  the  signora  contessa  a  visit." 

"  No,  no,"  exclaimed  Ugo  genially.  "  You  can  go  to 
Monsignore  after  breakfast.  He  will  not  offer  you  any — you 
know  he  has  not  a  reputation  for  hospitality,  our  bishop  !  My 
wife  will  be  delighted  to  see  you.  It  is  long  since  you  have  been 
near  us,  Don  Basilio,  and  I  will  take  no  refusal.  Ah,  you  rascal, 
would  you  ?  Do  you  think  you  will  get  rid  of  my  weight  so 
easily  ?  " 

These  last  words  were  addressed,  not  to  Don  Basilio,  but  to 
the  chestnut  which,  with  no  preliminary  warning,  hunched  its 
back  and  gave  a  violent  buck.  "  The  brute  will  have  me  off  one 
of  these  days  when  I  am  least  thinking  of  it,"  continued  Ugo, 
laughing.  "  None  of  my  people  can  sit  him  for  long,  and  he  was 
sold  to  me  as  being — quiet !  " 

Don  Basilio  looked  at  the  horse — a  powerful  animal  with  a 
strong  strain  of  Irish  blood  in  him. 

'*  I  should  sell  him,"  he  observed,  "  before  he  does  anything  of 
the  kind.  Fortunately,  you  are  too  much  at  home  in  the  saddle 
for  him  to  get  rid  of  you  very  easily." 


246  TEMPTATION 

*'  He  is  better  of  the  habit  than  he  was  when  I  first  had 
him,"  Ugo  said ;  "  but  he  has  a  way  of  bucking  quite  suddenly, 
when  one  is  least  expecting  it.  But  I  like  the  horse,  all  the 
same;  and  next  winter  I  shall  hunt  on  him,  when  we  are  in 
Rome." 

"  You  have  quite  made  up  your  mind  to  spend  next  winter  in 
Rome,  then  ?  "  asked  Don  Basilio. 

Ugo  smiled.  "  Yes,"  he  replied ;  "  for  my  wife's  sake — I  need 
hardly  say  not  for  my  own !  It  is  very  dull  for  her  here,  you  see. 
The  duchessa  thinks  that  I  am  quite  right  to  take  her  to  Rome. 
I  have  got  into  a  groove,  Don  Basilio,  and  I  suppose  it  is  a  bad 
thing  for  men  of  my  age  to  do  that.  It  is  a  very  pleasant  thing, 
all  the  same,  when  one  feels  that  one  fits  the  groove." 

"Yes,"  observed  the  priest;  "  but,  as  you  say,  the  signora 
contessa  doubtless  finds  it  dull  passing  the  whole  year  at 
Palazzo  Vitali." 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  about  it  which  really  troubles  me," 
continued  Count  Vitali,  and  then  he  paused. 

Don  Basilio  made  no  remark.  It  was  not  his  way  to  ask 
questions. 

"  I  should  be  afraid  that  she  will  find  her  life  here  still  more 
dull  after  a  season  in  Rome,"  proceeded  Ugo. 

The  priest  glanced  at  him.  "  Let  us  hope  not,"  was  all  he 
said. 

Count  Vitali  shrugged  his  shoulders  a  little  impatiently.  "  Her 
interests  are  not  my  interests,"  he  remarked.  "  The  fact  is,  I  am 
too  stupid  for  her,"  he  added  simply.  "  She  should  have 
married  a  clever  man.  Cristina  is  a  clever  woman,  you  know — 
but  I  forgot,  of  course,  you  know  her  very  slightly,  Don 
Basilio." 

"  Very  slightly,"  repeated  Don  Basilio.  "  Nevertheless,"  he 
continued,  "  I  do  not  agree  with  you  when  you  imply  that  she 
ought  therefore  to  have  married  a  cleverer  man.  Two  clever 
people  ought  not  to  marry.     It  is  apt  to  create  dis turbid 

A  by-road  to  the  left  led  through  the  vineyards  to  one  of  the 
entrances  to  the  gardens  of  Palazzo  Vitali,  and  Ugo  insisted  upon 
Don  Basilio  coming  in  with  him  to  breakfast.     Arriving  at  the 


TEMPTATION  247 

stables  he  gave  his  horse  to  one  of  the  men,  telling  him  to  see 
that  Don  Basilio's  pony  was  put  up  and  given  a  feed  of  oats. 

Entering  the  house  by  the  terrace  they  found  Countess  Vitali 
in  the  drawing-room.  Don  Basilio  could  not  but  perceive  her 
surprise  at  seeing  him,  and  he  fancied  that  she  looked  not  only 
surprised,  which  was  natural  enough,  but  also  disconcerted  at  his 
unexpected  visit.  If  this  were  really  the  case,  however,  she 
quickly  recovered  herself,  and  received  him  with  at  any  rate  an 
outward  show  of  cordiality.  It  was  already  eleven  o'clock,  and 
breakfast  was  very  soon  announced  by  Taddeo,  who  replied  to 
Don  Basilio's  greeting  with  evident  pleasure  ;  for  the  old  servant 
had  been  accustomed  constantly  to  see  him  at  Palazzo  Vitah  in 
the  days  when  the  late  Count  Vitali  was  alive. 

The  conversation  at  breakfast  did  not  flag ;  nevertheless  Don 
Basilio  did  not  feel  at  his  ease.  He  had  not  met  Contessa 
Vitali  more  than  about  half  a  dozen  times  in  his  life ;  and  when 
he  had  met  her,  the  sensations  she  aroused  in  him  had  always 
been  the  same.  To-day,  however,  he  was  aware  that  these 
sensations  were  very  much  more  pronounced  than  they  had  ever 
before  been.  He  was  conscious,  acutely  conscious,  of  the 
influence  of  something  evil.  At  the  breakfast  table  they  were 
only  three ;  yet  Don  Basilio  found  himself  wondering  whether 
this  were  indeed  the  case,  or  whether  a  fourth  presence  were  not 
with  them  from  which  the  evil  he  felt  to  be  near  him  emanated. 
As  the  meal  proceeded  he  grew  more  and  more  uncomfortable, 
and  only  anxious  for  the  moment  to  arrive  when  he  might 
reasonably  make  his  escape  on  the  plea  that  he  had  various 
matters  of  business  to  attend  to  in  the  city  before  presenting 
himself  in  the  bishop's  ante-chamber,  where  he  might  have  to 
wait  some  time  before  obtaining  his  interview. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  his  efforts  to  overcome  a  sensation  of 
oppression  and  uneasiness  which  seemed  to  be  gaining  a  greater 
hold  upon  him,  Don  Basilio  was  recalled  to  more  material 
reflections  by  an  observation  made  to  him  by  his  host. 

"  We  are  expecting  my  cousin  Fabrizio,"  Ugo  remarked;  "you 
remember  he  was  at  Villa  Falconara  that  day  we  breakfasted  with 
the  duchessa,"  he  added. 


248  TEMPTATION 

Don  Basilio  looked  up  quickly  from  his  plate,  and  as  he  did  so 
he  became  aware  that  Countess  Vitali's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him 
sharply  and  suspiciously. 

"  Indeed  ?  "  he  observed.     "  When  does  he  come  ?  " 

Count  Vitali  glanced  at  his  wife.  "  When  is  it,  Cristina  ?  "  he 
asked.  "  He  was  to  write  to  you  when  he  had  fixed  the  date  he 
could  leave  Montecatini,  was  he  not  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  replied  Countess  Vitali  indifferently ;  "  one 
day  next  week,  I  believe." 

"  Ah,  we  shall  have  begun  the  vintage  by  that  time,"  remarked 
Ugo.  "  My  cousin  is  anxious  to  be  here  for  it,"  he  added,  to 
Don  Basilio. 

"  Indeed  ?  "  repeated  the  priest,  a  little  drily. 

"That  is  a  young  man  who  is  wasting  his  life  on  dabbling  in 
things  better  left  alone,"  Ugo  continued. 

"  Many  young  men  do  that,"  Don  Basilio  observed  briefly. 

Ugo  laughed.  "  Oh,  I  mean  philosophy,  and  all  that  kind  of 
thing,"  he  returned.  "  It  is  a  waste  of  good  brains — for  he  has 
good  brains.  If  I  possessed  brains,  I  should  try  to  get  some 
material  advantage  out  of  them." 

''  There  are  material  advantages  to  be  gained  from  the  study 
of  philosophy,"  said  Countess  Vitali  quickly. 

"  Of  course  !  "  replied  Ugo,  "  but  amateur  philosophy — that 
means,  as  a  rule,  losing  one's  way." 

Don  Basilio  glanced  at  him.  Like  many  people  with  no  pre- 
tensions to  be  clever,  Ugo  Vitali  occasionally  delivered  himself 
of  a  shrewd  remark ;  and  it  was  not  the  first  time  that  the  priest 
had  heard  him  do  so. 

"  Losing  one's  way  ? "  he  repeated.  "  It  is  very  easy  to  do 
that,  conte,  without  being  an  amateur  philosopher.  But,  all  the 
same,  it  is  not  necessary  to  lose  one's  way  simply  because  one 
studies  philosophy — no?  Your  cousin  is  young.  Most  young 
people  lose  their  way ;  but,  as  they  grow  older,  they  find 
sign-posts." 

"  Sign-posts  ?  "  re-echoed  Ugo,  smiling. 

"  Sicuro  !  Sorrow,  and  unrest.  They  are  signs  which  are 
usually  clear  enough — God's  signs," 


TEMPTATION  249 

"  But  whax  if  your  would-be  philosopher  refuses  to  admit  the 
existence  of  God?"  asked  Count  Vitali. 

Don  Basilio  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Non  importa,"  he 
replied.     "  God  writes  the  signs  more  clearly ;  that  is  all." 

"  I'm  afraid  Fabrizio  is  a  freethinker,"  Ugo  observed ;  "  but 
then,"  he  added,  "  that  is  the  fashion  in  these  days.  You  and  I, 
Don  Basilio,  are  quite  unfashionable  in  our  ideas,"  and  he 
laughed  pleasantly. 

Don  Basilio  did  not  reply.  His  face  wore  a  grave  and  pre- 
occupied expression ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  not 
thinking  of  Fabrizio  Vitali's  heterodox  opinions.  He  was 
searching  in  his  mind  for  some  possible  means  of  opening  Count 
Vitali's  eyes  to  the  risk  he  was  running  by  allowing  himself  to  be 
deceived  into  furthering  what,  the  priest  felt  convinced,  was  a 
concerted  plan  between  Fabrizio  and  the  woman  who  sat  at  the 
end  of  the  table,  and  who,  he  felt  rather  than  saw,  was  hanging 
suspiciously  on  every  word  he  might  utter. 

The  local  gossip  concerning  Count  Vitali's  folly  in  permitting 
his  wife  to  spend  her  days  quite  alone  with  Fabrizio  had  not 
failed  to  reach  Don  Basilio's  ears,  little  as  he  occupied  himself 
with  such  matters.  He  knew,  too,  that  it  had  reached  the  ears 
of  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice ;  and  that,  for  some  reason  which 
she  had  not  thought  fit  to  expound  to  him,  she  had  paid  much 
more  attention  to  this  gossip  concerning  Count  Vitali's  domestic 
affairs  than  it  was  her  wont  to  do  when  tales  of  a  similar  nature 
were  repeated  to  her.  With  his  intimate  knowledge  of  Vittoria 
di  San  Felice's  proud,  reserved  character,  and  of  the  breadth  and 
generosity  of  her  nature,  he  had  been  considerably  surprised  at 
discovering  a  decided  inclination  on  her  part  to  interfere  in  a 
matter  which  could  not  be  any  business  of  her  own.  That  any 
such  interference  would  be  at  once  misconstrued  by  the  world  in 
general,  Don  Basilio  had  ventured  delicately  to  hint  to  her. 
Moreover,  any  similar  action  by  the  duchessa  would,  as  he  had 
at  once  realised,  place  in  Countess  Vitali's  hands  a  weapon  which 
it  was  by  no  means  advisable  that  she  should  possess. 

Don  Basilio,  knowing  human  nature,  had  not  at  first  been 
inclined  to  attach  the  least  importance  either  to  the  rumours  which 


250  TEMPTATION 

reached  him  as  to  the  strained  relations  between  Count  Vitali 
and  his  wife,  or  to  those  subsequent  ones  which  pointed  to  an 
intrigue  between  Countess  VitaH  and  her  husband's  cousin. 
When,  however,  it  came  to  his  knowledge  that  Ugo  VitaU  had 
actually  received  an  anonymous  letter  warning  him  that  he  was 
being  deceived,  Don  Basilio  had  begun  to  wonder  who  might  be 
the  originator  of  these  rumours.  As  time  went  on  the  tales  had 
become  more  defined,  and  altogether  of  a  more  intimate 
character.  Knowing  how  retired  a  life  Count  and  Countess 
Vitali  led,  it  was  difficult  to  imagine  the  source  whence  these 
stories  sprung. 

In  any  case  it  was  obvious  that  Ugo  Vitali  must  be  quite 
indifferent  to  the  anonymous  warning  he  had  received,  or  he 
would  certainly  not  again  receive  his  cousin  Fabrizio  under  his 
roof  when  so  short  a  space  of  time  had  elapsed  since  his  last 
visit.  Nevertheless,  Don  Basilio  felt  convinced  that,  in  this 
instance  at  all  events,  gossip  was  telling  the  truth,  and  he  knew 
that  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  was  convinced  of  it  also.  He 
had  tried  to  argue  with  himself  that  he  was  prejudiced  against 
Countess  Vitali — that  she  was,  for  some  reason  for  which  he  was 
unable  to  account,  antij>attca  to  him — and  that  therefore  he  was 
the  more  ready  to  believe  in  any  stories  to  her  discredit.  But  his 
sense  of  conviction,  he  felt  positive,  rested  on  a  surer  basis  than 
this,  the  basis  of  his  instinct :  the  mysterious  power  he  possessed 
of  feeling  the  presence  of  evil  as  though  it  were  a  tangible 
substance  from  which  he  recoiled  as  naturally  as  a  man  recoils 
from  some  poisonous  creature  about  to  strike  at  him. 

Breakfast  was  nearly  over  by  this  time,  and  Taddeo  was  hand- 
ing round  dishes  of  white  moscato  grapes,  and  large  purple  figs 
ripe  to  the  bursting  point.  The  footman  at  that  moment  re- 
entered the  room,  bringing  with  him  a  telegram  which  he  took 
to  Countess  Vitali  who  opened  it  leisurely. 

"It  is  from  Fabrizio,"  she  said,  refolding  it;  "he  suggests 
arriving  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I  suppose  that  day  will  do  as 
well  as  any  other,  will  it  not,  Ugo  ?  " 

She  spoke  quietly,  and  with  an  indifference  which  struck  Don 
Basilio  as  being  too  pronounced  to  be  altogether  natural.    Looking 


TEMPTATION  251 

across  the  table  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a  peculiar  look  on 
Taddeo's  face.  The  old  servant  was  gazing  at  Countess  Vitali 
with  an  unmistakable  expression  of  anger  and  hatred  in  his  eyes. 
Apparently  he  became  aware  that  the  priest  was  watching  him, 
for  he  turned  hastily  away,  and  began  to  busy  himself  at  a  side 
table. 

"  Taddeo  knows  something,"  Don  Basilio  said  to  himself — and 
then  a  sudden  thought  struck  him. 

"  Of  course  the  day  after  to-morrow  will  do  as  well  as  any  other 
day,"  said  Ugo  Vitali  to  his  wife.  "But  there  is  no  need  to 
telegraph  to  Fabrizio,"  he  added,  "a  letter  will  reach  him  in 
Rome  to-morrow  morning."  Count  Vitali  was  careful  of  his 
soldi,  and  saw  no  reason  to  present  any  of  them  unnecessarily  to 
the  Government,  if  he  could  avoid  doing  so.  "  What  room  will 
you  give  him,  Cristina  ?  "  he  continued.     "  Donna  Giulia's  ?  " 

Countess  Vitali  smiled.  "  I  think  so,"  she  said.  "  Fabrizio  is 
not  superstitious,  you  know.  He  has  no  objection  to  pass 
through  the  cardinal's  apartment  at  night,  when  he  has  to  go  to 
his  room.  So  far  as  I  know,"  she  added,  "  he  had  no  unpleasant 
experiences  when  he  last  occupied  Donna  Giulia's  room." 

Taddeo  at  this  moment  dropped  a  plate,  which  shivered  into 
fragments  on  the  marble  floor  of  the  room  used  as  a  dining-room. 

Ugo  Vitali  looked  at  his  wife  with  surprise,  and  a  quick  frown 
passed  over  his  face. 

"Why  do  you  say  that,  Cristina,"  he  remarked  hastily,  "when 
you  know " 

"Signor  Conte!"  exclaimed  Taddeo  suddenly,  apparently 
heedless  of  his  careless  action. 

Ugo  looked  at  him.  "  What  is  the  matter,  Taddeo  ? "  he  asked. 
"  If  you  would  pay  more  attention  to  your  duties  and  less  to  our 
conversation,  you  would  not  break  my  china.  You  seem  to  have 
forgotten  the  episode  of  the  crucifix,"  he  continued  to  his  wife. 

"  Oh — that ! "  replied  Cristina  unconcernedly ;  "  of  course  I 
had  forgotten  it — one  does  not  remember  such  a  trifle  as  an  object 
falling  from  a  wall  on  account  of  a  nail  breaking  away  !  But  who 
told  you  of  that  episode?"  she  asked  suddenly.  "Taddeo,  I 
suppose." 


252  TEMPTATION 

"Fabrizio  himself  told  me,"  replied  Ugo.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
Taddeo  had  spoken  of  it  to  him  also,  and  that  before  his  cousin 
had  mentioned  it.  Count  Vitali  suddenly  recollected,  however, 
that,  in  telling  him  of  how  he  had  found  the  crucifix  absent  from 
its  usual  place,  and  of  how  Fabrizio  had  declared  that  he  had 
found  it  on  his  bed,  Taddeo  had  also  besought  him  not  to  mention 
the  matter  to  the  signora  contessa,  and  she  had  forbidden  him 
to  name  it  to  the  signer  conte,  Fabrizio,  too,  had  begged  him 
not  to  speak  of  it  to  Cristina,  as  she  seemed  to  look  upon  the 
occurrence  as  one  of  ill  augury.  Knowing  that  his  wife  did  not 
share  his  feeling  of  regard  for  his  father's  old  servant,  Ugo  had 
no  wish  to  place  him  in  a  difficulty,  and  was  glad  to  be  able 
truthfully  to  say  that  he  had  heard  of  the  matter  from  Fabrizio 
himself. 

"  You  had  really  forgotten  that  Fabrizio  found  the  crucifix  fallen 
on  to  his  pillow?"  asked  Ugo.  "That  is  strange,"  he  added, 
"  because  I  think  that  Fabrizio  was  in  reality  considerably  dis- 
turbed by  the  episode — and  he  told  me  he  had  discussed  it  with 
you,  and  that  you  did  not  wish  any  further  allusion  to  be  made 
to  it.  I  cannot  think  how  you  can  have  forgotten,  Cristina — and 
I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  Fabrizio  will  care  to  find  himself  again 
in  that  room.     After  all,  there  are  plenty  of  other  bedrooms." 

"  That  is  just  what  there  are  not,"  returned  Countess  Vitali. 
"  There  are  plenty  of  bedrooms — it  is  true — but  most  of  them  are 
uninhabitable." 

She  rose  from  the  breakfast-table  as  she  spoke,  and  Don 
Basilio  took  the  opportunity  of  explaining  how  his  business  in 
Viterbo  would  necessitate  his  departure  without,  as  Ugo  Vitali 
pressed  him  to  do,  remaining  to  smoke  a  cigar. 

Ugo  accompanied  his  guest  to  the  top  of  the  staircase  leading 
down  to  the  courtyard,  and  there  delivered  him  over  to  Taddeo, 
who  escorted  him  to  ihtportone  of  the  palace.  The  man  lingered 
as  they  crossed  the  court,  and  seemed  as  though  he  were  longing 
for  Don  Basilio  to  afford  him  an  opportunity  of  disburdening  his 
mind. 

Don  Basilio,  who  had  noticed  the  expression  on  the  old 
servant's  face  when  Fabrizio  Vitali's  name  was  mentioned,  and 


TEMPTATION  253 

had  observed  his  embarrassment  over  the  matter  of  the  crucifix, 
was  not  disinclined  to  enter  into  conversation  with  him. 

"  So,"  he  observed,  "  Count  Fabrizio  Vitali  is  returning  already. 
He  has  not  been  away  very  long  before  renewing  his  visit." 

Taddeo  stopped  short  in  the  middle  of  the  courtyard. 

"^  una  vergogna  1 "  he  exclaimed. 

Don  Basilio  looked  at  him  attentively.  "  How  has  Count 
Fabrizio  offended  you,  my  friend?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"  The  signorino  must  be  bUnd — absolutely  blind,"  continued 
Taddeo,  "  and  it  is  that  woman  who  blinds  him,"  and  he  shook 
his  fist  in  the  direction  of  the  part  of  the  palace  they  had  just  left. 
"  Not  but  that  the  signorino  has  been  warned  of  what  is  going 
on,"  he  added. 

Don  Basilio  drew  him  aside  under  the  arcade  running  round 
the  courtyard.  The  porter  was  fast  asleep  in  his  little  office  at 
the  side  of  the  entrance  gate.  Don  Basilio  could  see  him  through 
the  open  window — his  red  face  thrown  back  on  the  shoulder  of 
his  arm-chair,  with  the  mouth  open.  Except  the  porter,  the  only 
living  creatures  visible  were  a  black  cat  lazily  washing  its  face  in 
the  sunshine,  and  some  pigeons  strutting  in  amatory  mood  upon 
the  flagstones. 

"  It  was  you,  then,  who  sent  the  signor  conte  an  anonymous 
letter  some  weeks  ago,"  Don  Basilio  observed  abruptly. 

Taddeo  started  violently.  "  I  ?  "  he  stammered.  "  Reverendo, 
no  !  why  should  I  have  sent  him  the  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes — why  ? "  repeated  Don  Basilio.  '*  Just  now  you 
declared  that  the  signor  conte  had  received  a  warning.  How  do 
you  know  that  he  has  done  so — unless  you  were  the  sender  of 
that  warning  ?  " 

The  man  looked  at  him  abashed  for  a  moment  or  two  without 
replying.  Then  he  said,  doggedly  :  "  Reverendo,  it  is  true.  My 
wife  wrote  the  letter,  and  I  sent  it  to  the  signor  conte.  A  friend 
posted  it  in  Rome." 

Don  BasiHo  nodded.    "  But  why  ?  "  he  asked  again. 

Taddeo's  eyes  flashed  angrily.  "  Because  they  are  deceiving 
him,"  he  replied  "The  signorino  has  married  a  bad  woman. 
Oh,  I  have  watched  her,  and  I  know !     As  to  the  other — quel 


254  TEMPTATION 

Fabrizio — he  is  not  bad ;  he  is  only  weak — a  weak  boy  in  the 
hands  of  an  evil  woman — and  she  will  ruin  him,  body  and  soul. 
I  have  watched,  and  I  know." 

"Gently,  my  friend,"  said  Don  Basilio  quietly.  "These  are 
strange  accusations  to  make  against  the  wife  of  your  padrone. 
Perhaps  you  are  mistaken.  You  say  you  have  watched — and 
that  you  know.  But  when  one  watches,  one  often  sees  what  one 
wishes  to  see;  and  it  is  evident  that  you  dislike  the  signora 
contessa.  Remember  that  Count  Fabrizio  is  not  a  stranger,  but 
a  member  of  the  family.  I  think  your  are  talking  nonsense — 
like  many  other  people." 

"  What  is  he  returning  for  ?  "  asked  Taddeo  briefly. 

"  Ma — for  the  vintage." 

"  Why  does  he  not  go  to  the  Castelli  Roraani,  then  ?  Have  they 
not  the  vintage  there,  reverendo  ?  macche  /  he  is  coming  to  pluck 
another  man's  fruit — si  capisce  ! "  and  Taddeo  laughed  harshly. 

Don  Basilio  did  not  reply  for  a  moment. 

"It  seems  to  me,  Taddeo," he  said  presently,  "that  the  signor 
conte  is  capable  of  looking  after  his  own  affairs." 

"But  if  he  is  being  deceived?"  returned  the  old  servant  hotly. 
"  Reverendo,  I  have  known  the  signorino  since  he  was  born — 
and  there  is  no  guile  in  him — none  at  all.  But  in  that  woman  he 
has  married,  there  is  guile — nothing  else  than  guile.  She  has 
made  the  conte  Fabrizio  love  her — and  she  hates  her  husband. 
Have  I  not  seen  hate  in  her  eyes  when  she  has  thought  herself 
unobserved  ?  Ah,  if  only  he  had  married  the  signora  duchessa, 
reverendo !  At  one  time  we  all  hoped  that  she  and  the 
signorino  would  make  a  match  of  it  between  them." 

Don  Basilio  stared  at  him.  "  Storie  !  "  he  exclaimed  abruptly; 
"  there  never  was  any  question  of  such  a  thing.  The  signora 
duchessa's  whole  affections  are  centred  in  her  children.  Why 
should  she  have  thought  of  marrying  again — either  the  signor 
conte,  or  anybody  else  ?  Such  ideas  are  foolish,  my  friend — and 
they  do  harm.  But  all  this  is  beside  the  point.  You  must  have 
some  very  definite  reason  for  supposing  there  to  be  anything 
more  between  the  signora  contessa  and  her  husband's  cousin  than 
simply  family  ties.     One  has  no  right  to  form  suspicions  of  people, 


TEMPTATION  255 

and  then  judge  of  their  conduct  in  the  light  of  those  suspicions. 
Via — if  you  have  anything  definite  to  say,  say  it  to  me.  I  shall 
not  betray  your  confidence.  But  if  you  have  nothing  beyond 
mere  suspicions,  then  do  not  waste  my  time  and  your  own  in 
talking  nonsense." 

"Nonsense,"  repeated  Taddeo,  "nonsense?  no,  reverendo.  I 
am  not  talking  nonsense,  as  I  will  prove  to  you.  I  have  seen  it 
all  coming — from  the  very  beginning — the  gradual  dislike  of  the 
signorino  springing  up  in  the  heart  of  that  woman.  Then  the 
conte  Fabrizio  came — and  immediately — yes,  immediately  the 
signora  contessa  began  to  make  him  love  her,  for  amusement 
to  spite  her  husband — che  ne  so  io?  And  I  watched — and 
watched.  The  signora  contessa  suspects  that  I  watch,  for  many 
times  she  has  tried  to  persuade  the  signorino  to  pension  me  off; 
saying  that  I  was  too  old — that  a  younger  servant  was  necessary. 
Oh,  I  know — she  has  said  it  to  her  maid  and  to  many.  The 
signorino  once  suggested  to  me  that  I  should  retire — that  he 
would  make  me  an  allowance.  And  what  did  I  say  to  him  in 
reply?  that  he  might  turn  me,  his  father's  old  servant,  away  if  he 
chose — but  that  I  would  not  take  a  baiocco  of  his  money  except 
as  my  legitimate  wages  for  serving  him  and  Casa  Vitali.  That  is 
what  I  said  to  the  signorino — and  he  has  never  ventured  to  speak 
again  to  me  as  he  spoke  that  day." 

Don  Basilio  smiled  at  him.  He  knew  the  disinterestedness, 
and  the  chivalrous  devotion  to  their  employers  of  which  servants 
of  Taddeo's  stamp  were  capable.  But  he  knew,  also,  the 
readiness  of  their  class  to  think  evil  where  no  evil  was — and  their 
resentment  against  anyone  who,  as  they  believed,  came  between 
them  and  their  padrone. 

"Ecco  !"  he  interrupted.  "What  did  I  say  to  you  just  now? 
You  dislike  the  signora  contessa,  because  you  are  aware  that  she 
would  prefer  you  to  retire  from  service.  It  is  very  natural  that 
you  should  dislike  her  on  that  account.  But  it  is  also  natural 
that  the  signora  contessa  should  want  to  make  changes.  Women 
always  do.  That,  however,  is  no  reason  for  suspecting  her  of 
being  unfaithful  to  her  husband,  and  of  inducing  her  husband's 
nearest  relative  to  become  her  lover." 


256  TEMPTATION 

"  Listen,  reverendo,"  continued  Taddeo  quickly.  "  I  will  tell 
you  all,  and  then  you  shall  judge  for  yourself  whether  I  am  right 
or  wrong.  If  you  can  prove  to  me  that  I  am  wrong,  tanto  meglio! 
I  will  go  to  the  signorino,  and  I  will  tell  him  that  I  wish  to  retire, 
and  the  signora  countessa  can  find  somebody  new  to  take  my 
place." 

"  Speak,"  said  Don  Basilio  gently. 

"Bene.  Often,  when  the  signora  contessa  and  the  cousin 
have  been  talking  alone  together  on  the  terrace,  I  have  overheard 
their  conversation.  Voices  rise  in  the  open  air,  reverendo ;  and 
it  has  so  happened  that  I  have  more  than  once  been  in  the 
rooms  on  the  second  floor,  through  the  open  windows  of  which  I 
could  distinctly  hear  all  they  said.  The  persiani  outside  were 
closed,  so  they  could  not  know  that  I  was  in  the  rooms.  Much 
of  what  they  talked  of,  I  did  not  understand,  and  often  they 
spoke  in  French.  But  much  I  did  understand — much  also  that 
was  not  expressed  in  words :  for  sometimes,  even  though  the 
shutters  were  closed,  I  could  see  their  faces  through  the  chinks. 
One  thing,  however,  I  could  always  hear.  The  signora  contessa 
seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  reminding  the  conte  Fabrizio  that,  if 
the  signorino  should  fall  ill  and  die,  he  would  become  Count 
Vitali  and  the  owner  of  everything.  Once  she  was  saying  this 
and  the  other  was  angry.  '  Perdio,'  I  heard  him  exclaim, 
*  why  will  you  always  put  things  into  my  mind  which  I  do  not 
wish  to  think  about  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  I  wish  harm  to  Ugo  ? 
but  you,  Cristina,  I  believe  that  you  hate  him ! '  That  is  what 
he  said,  reverendo — I  could  hear  the  words,  and  I  could  see  the 
expression  on  her  face  as  she  listened.  It  was  the  expression  of 
a  devil,  though  it  passed  quickly  and  I  do  not  think  the  other 
one  could  see  it.  Then,  one  evening,  it  was  the  evening  after 
the  great  storm  last  month.  But  I  will  tell  you  what  happened 
during  the  storm  first.  They  were  alone  together  in  the  billiard- 
room.  The  hail  broke  the  windows,  and  the  signora  contessa 
while  closing  the  persiani  was  struck  by  a  hail-stone  and  her  arm 
was  cut.  It  bled,  and  he  kissed  it.  I  am  sure  that  he  kissed  it; 
for  I  came  into  the  room  suddenly  and  they  were  close  to  each 
other,  and  there  was  blood  on  his  face,  near  the  lips,  though  no 


TEMPTATION  257 

hailstone  had  cut  him."  He  paused  and  looked  at  the  priest 
almost  defiant!}'. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Don  Basilio  quietly. 

"  Well,  that  evening  after  dinner  the  signorino  had  a  pain  in 
the  head  ;  a  touch  of  the  sun  while  he  was  riding,  he  said ;  and 
they  persuaded  him  to  go  to  bed.  Then  they  went  out  of  doors 
together.  I  knew  they  were  togethei.  In  thp  darkness,  and  I 
made  a  plan.  I  told  the  boy,  Cesare,  that  my  wife  had  the  lever, 
and  that  I  must  go  to  the  chemist  for  some  saliceto.  I  told  him 
to  explain  this  to  the  signora  contessa ;  but  I  did  not  go  to  the 
chemist,  and  my  wife  had  not  got  the  fever.  I  remained  hidden 
in  the  garden  \  and  I  followed  them.  I  heard  all  they  said,  saw 
all  they  did." 

Don  Basilio  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"No,"  said  Taddeo,  answering  his  unspoken  question,  "no, 
but  he  asked  her ;  and  she  promised  that  before  he  returned  to 
Rome  she  would  give  him  all  he  wanted.  And  now,  Don  Basilio, 
am  I  right,  or  am  I  wrong  ?  " 

Don  Basilio  said  nothing,  but  he  looked  very  grave. 

"  Why  will  you  not  tell  the  signorino  what  I  have  told  you  ? " 
asked  Taddeo  hastily.  "  He  would  listen  to  you,  reverendo.  I 
have  done  all  I  can.  I  sent  him  that  letter ;  I  do  not  deny  it. 
And  I  did  more.  I  warned  the  Conte  Fabrizio  that  evil  was 
before  him,  when  the  crucifix  fell." 

"That  was  a  coincidence,"  said  Don  Basilio;  and  per- 
haps he  said  it  more  because  he  felt  he  must  say  some- 
thing than  because  he  really  believed  the  episode  to  have 
been  so. 

Taddeo  gave  him  a  curious  glance.  "  The  crucifix  fell  twice," 
he  said.  "That  evening,  of  which  I  have  been  telling  you, 
when  the  Conte  Fabrizio  went  to  his  room,  he  found  the  crucifix 
again  lying  on  his  pillows,  as  it  had  been  before.  But  even  that 
warning  of  maP  augurio  was  not  enough,  since  he  returns  to 
complete  the  signorino's  dishonour  ! " 

"  But  it  must  be  prevented  ! "  exclaimed  Don  Basilio ;  "  other- 
wise who  knows  what  tragedy  may  not  happen  when  the  signor 
conte  discovers  that  he  has  been  deceived  by  his  nearest  of  kin, 

R 


258  TEMPTATION 

by  the  cousin  whom  he  has  trusted  as  he  would  have  trusted  a 
brother  ?  " 

"  Sicuro,  it  must  be  prevented,"  repeated  Taddeo,  "  but  how, 
and  by  whom  ?  The  signorino  would  listen  to  you,  reverendo," 
he  added,  "to  you  and  to  the  signora  duchessa  di  San  Felice, 
but  to  others  he  would  not  Hsten ;  and  who  else  would  dare  to 
tell  him  ? " 

Don  Basilio  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes.  "  I  must  think, 
Taddeo,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps  I  can  do  something,  but  whoever 
interferes  in  this  matter,  it  must  not  be  the  signora  duchessa. 
Another  woman,  you  understand " 

Taddeo  nodded.  "Of  course,"  he  replied.  "It  is  quite 
enough  that  there  should  be  one  woman  in  the  business." 

"Yes,"  observed  Don  Basilio  drily.  "It  is  always  enough; 
it  always  has  been  enough,  from  the  beginning." 

And  then  he  turned  aside,  and,  bidding  Taddeo  farewell, 
walked  thoughtfully  across  the  courtyard  and  let  himself  out  of 
the  portone  into  the  street,  unnoticed  by  the  porter  who  still  slept 
peacefully  after  his  midday  meal. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  WARM,  golden  haze  lay  over  the  land.  Summei,  -wom  out 
■^^  by  its  passionate  intensity,  was  dying ;  but  dying  so  gradu- 
ally, so  peacefully,  that  its  passing  was  scarcely  perceptible.  In 
the  vineyards  there  were  patches  of  bright  yellow,  and  of  fiery 
red,  where  the  vine  leaves  were  putting  on  their  autumn  colouring. 
Little  brown  and  white  birds,  the  beccafichi,  flew  from  one  fig  tree 
to  another  searching  for  the  ripest  fruit  into  which  to  [)lunge  their 
dainty  beaks.  As  a  rule  men  with  guns  lay  in  wait  for  them,  to 
slay  them  while  their  bodies  were  yet  plump  and  their  flesh 
fragrant  with  the  flavour  of  the  figs.  But  to-day  nobody  heeded 
them,  or  sought  to  rob  them  of  their  earthly  existence.  The 
vintage  had  begun ;  and  the  energies  of  men,  women  and 
children  were  concentrated  on  plucking  the  bunches  of  purple  and 
of  white  grapes,  on  heaping  them  into  baskets,  and  conveying  the 
baskets  to  waggons  which  the  patient,  white  oxen  stood  waiting  to 
draw  slowly  away  to  the  ii?ielli,  or  wine-presses.  The  sounds  of 
laughter  and  songs  rang  through  the  still  September  air ;  of 
harmless  jests,  and  sometimes,  but  not  often,  an  oath. 

The  rays  of  the  sun  were  still  powerful,  but  no  longer  with  the 
fierce,  scorching  power  of  August ;  and  the  air  had  a  lightness  in 
it  which  spoke  of  the  fresher  nights  of  autumn,  cooled  by  the 
heavy  dews. 

Ugo  Vitali  was  in  good  spirits  that  morning  as  he  visited 
various  parts  of  his  property  on  which  the  vintage  was  being 
carried  on.  A  considerable  portion  of  his  land  he  kept  in  his 
own  hands ;  but  there  were  holdings  which  were  leased  on  the 
mezzadria  system,  by  which  landlord  and  tenant  divided  the  pro- 
duce of  the  land  in  equal  shares.  The  lands  of  Casa  Vitali  were 
altogether  free  from  the  curse  of  the  middleman — the  farming 
out  of  the  rents  to  some  mercante  di  campagna  who  paid  the 
owner  a  fixed  yearly  sum  and  put  whatever  he  could  extract  from 

259 


260  TEMPTATION 

the  property  over  and  above  this  sum  into  his  own  pockets.  It 
was  true  that  the  mezzadria  system  necessitated  the  constant  and 
careful  supervision  of  the  crops  at  the  periods  of  harvest  or 
vintage,  and  a  searching  examination  into  the  accounts  of  the 
sales  of  these  crops  ;  otherwise  it  was  an  arrangement  which, 
when  scrupulously  carried  out  both  by  landlord  and  peasant, 
worked  easily  enough,  and  was  fair  and  equitable  to  both  parties. 

As  to  the  vintage  of  that  year,  it  promised  to  be  exceptionally 
good  and  abundant,  for  there  had  been  a  notable  absence  of 
hail,  and  the  furious  storm  a  few  weeks  before  had  fortunately 
been  very  restricted  in  its  course  of  devastation.  So  plentiful,  in- 
deed, were  the  grapes,  that  buyers  had  already  begun  to  shake 
their  heads.  A  year  or  two  previously,  after  an  equally  abundant 
harvest,  millions  of  francs  had  been  lost.  Owing  to  the  total  in- 
capacity of  the  Italian  railway  companies  to  deal  with  the  question 
of  transport,  thousands  upon  thousands  of  tons  of  fruit  which 
ought  to  have  been  exported  to  form  the  basis  of  foreign  wines 
afterwards  to  be  sold  as  clarets  and  burgundies,  lay  rotting  on 
quays  and  in  the  goods  yards  of  the  railway  stations.  And  as 
the  railway  organisation  in  the  country  had  steadily  gone  from 
bad  to  worse  since  that  season,  there  was  every  prospect  of  even 
greater  waste  in  the  present  instance. 

Notwithstanding  these  gloomy  forebodings  of  official  incapacity 
Count  Vitali  had  no  reason  to  be  otherwise  than  satisfied  with 
his  own  prospects  of  a  successful  vintage.  He  had  already 
disposed  of  a  considerable  quantity  of  his  grapes  when  they  were 
just  reaching  maturity  to  a  well-known  mercante  di  campagna  who 
had  come  from  Rome  to  take  stock  of  the  Vitali  vineyards  and 
make  an  offer  for  the  crop.  If  the  grapes  when  despatched 
rotted  in  railway  stations  because  the  authorities  declined,  or 
forgot  to  afford  facilities  for  their  transport,  this  was  no  affair  of 
the  vendor,  whose  contract  was  confined  to  the  selling  of  the- 
fruit,  and  not  to  its  final  delivery  in  good  condition  when  once  it 
had  left  his  vineyards. 

The  crops  in  the  Puglie,  and  in  other  southern  provinces, 
whence  the  bulk  of  rough,  red  wine  in  its  primary  state  of  fer- 
mentation is   despatched  to  central  and   northern   Italy  to  be 


TEMPTATION  261 

"  manipulated  "  into  "  Chianti  vecchio  "  for  the  hotel-keepers,  or 
to  foreign  lands  for  the  purpose  of  manufacturing  spurious  clarets 
and  burgundies,  were,  unlike  those  further  north,  reported  to  be 
less  satisfactory  than  usual ;  and  Count  Vitali,  therefore,  like 
other  vine  growers  in  his  neighbourhood,  had  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining fairly  average  prices  for  his  produce. 

That  morning  Ugo  had  ridden  to  various  vineyards  in  which 
his  peasants  were  at  work,  and  everywhere  he  had  been  received 
with  smiling  faces,  and  salutations  in  which  cordiality  was 
happily  blended  with  the  respect  due  to  il  padrone.  His  people 
regarded  him  as  one  of  themselves,  and  trusted  him  considerably 
more  than  they  would  have  trusted  one  of  themselves.  They  knew 
him  to  be  absolutely  just,  both  to  them  as  workers  and  to  himself 
as  employer,  and  respected  him  accordingly.  There  were  plenty 
of  examples  of  landlords,  owners  of  vast  latifondi,  who  rarely  or 
never  came  near  their  properties,  nor  interested  themselves  in 
any  way  in  the  condition  of  those  who  laboured  to  make  their 
lands  productive.  Rome,  Paris,  Monte  Carlo  swallowed  up  the 
sums  of  money  paid  over  by  the  individual  who  "  farmed  "  the 
rents ;  and,  so  long  as  those  sums  of  money  were  forthcoming  at 
their  periods,  the  owner  troubled  himself  not  at  all,  either  as  to 
the  way  in  which  his  land  was  exhausted  by  over-production,  or 
as  to  the  miserable  condition  in  which  his  peasants  lived.  In 
Ugo  VitaH,  on  the  contrary,  the  peasants  recognised  that  they 
had  for  their  padrone  a  human  being  with  a  human  heart,  and  not 
a  mere  lay  figure  which,  like  some  fetish  of  a  barbarous  people, 
received  into  an  insatiable  maw  the  tribute  wrung  from  the  sweat 
of  their  brows.  Perhaps  a  certain  amount  of  tacit  sympathy  for 
their  young  padrone  also  accounted  for  his  ever-increasing  popu- 
larity among  those  who  worked  on  the  lands  of  Casa  Vitali.  It 
was  rumoured  that  he  was  not  happy  in  his  marriage.  The 
peasants  could  well  believe  this  rumour;  inasmuch  as,  in  their 
eyes,  a  childless  marriage  was  altogether  an  anomaly,  and 
scarcely  likely  to  be  happy.  They  had  been  quite  prepared, 
moreover,  to  dislike  Countess  Vitali  from  the  first,  being  quite 
aware  that  not  only  was  she  not  nobile  like  their  padrone,  but 
that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  man  who  had  begun  life  in  the 


262  TEMPTATION 

same  position  as  themselves,  and  who  had  no  doubt  risen  in  life 
at  the  expense  of  others  of  his  own  class.  The  obvious  indiffer- 
ence which  Cristina  had  displayed  towards  anything  concerning 
the  lands  of  Casa  Vitali,  and  towards  those  who  laboured  on 
those  lands,  had  certainly  tended  to  confirm  the  dislike  and 
suspicion  with  which  her  husband's  people  had  originally  re- 
garded her.  She  was  looked  upon  as  proud,  and  altogether  un- 
sympathetic. The  country  people  contrasted  her  with  the  Duchessa 
di  San  Felice  in  their  minds.  The  duchessa,  they  would  say  to 
each  other  when  discussing  the  subject  in  the  osterie,  and  round 
their  charcoal  braziers  during  the  long,  winter  evenings,  was  a 
grande  signora — a  princess  by  birth,  and  the  wife  and  mother  of 
a  duke — a  lady  whom  the  sovereigns  themselves  and  the  Regina 
Madre,  when  they  came  in  their  automobiles  through  Viterbo,  had 
more  than  once  gone  out  of  their  way  to  visit  at  Villa  Falconara. 
And  yet  this  great  lady  was  not  indifferent  to  them — certainly 
not !  Was  it  not  she  who  searched  out  the  sick  and  the  suffer- 
ing and  saw  personally  to  their  needs?  Did  she  not,  at  Villa 
Falconara,  keep  a  dispensary  where  you  could  get  all  the 
medicines  you  might  get  at  the  farmacia  in  Viterbo  with 
the  great  difference  that,  if  you  were  poor,  you  need  not  pay 
for  them  ?  And  did  not  she,  la  nostra  dtichessa,  as  she 
was  fondly  called,  bring  her  sympathy  and  her  consolation  to 
dwellings  wherein  was  the  bitterness  of  mourning  and  death  ? 
Mounted  on  her  horse,  or  driving  her  pair  of  strong,  Hungarian 
cobs,  was  she  not  to  be  found,  sooner  or  later,  wherever  there  was 
suffering  or  distress  within  many  miles  of  her  own  dwelling  ? 

Sicuro  !  but  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  was  a  vera  signora — bred 
and  born — whereas  "  la  Cristina,"  as  some  of  her  humbler  neigh- 
bours disrespectfully  called  the  Contessa  Vitali,  was  an  upstart, 
and  one  who  before  her  marriage  had  been  not  a  whit  better  than 
themselves.  Certainly  the  peasantry  of  the  district  in  which 
the  Vitali  and  the  San  Felice  estates  were  situated  were  shrewd 
enough  to  know  that  there  were  probably  few  great  ladies  of 
the  aristocrazia  who  had  the  interests  of  her  poorer  fellow- 
creatures  so  deeply  and  so  practically  at  heart  as  had  their 
duchessa ;    and  perhaps,  therefore,   they  were  a  little  unfair  in 


TEMPTATION  263 

their  judgment  of  one  who,  like  the  Contessa  Vitali,  had  never 
been  known  to  interest  herself  in  any  of  the  numerous  families 
living  upon  her  husband's  land.  Of  late,  however,  rumour  had 
been  busy ;  and  the  gossip  of  the  upper  classes  of  Viterbo  and 
its  immediate  neighbourhood  had  filtered  down  to  lower  levels 
where  it  lost  nothing  of  its  virulence,  nor,  it  must  be  added,  of 
its  suggestiveness. 

Whatever  may  have  been  in  the  minds  of  his  peasants, 
however,  as  they  greeted  him  in  response  to  his  easy,  good- 
humoured  salutations  by  their  names  to  the  men,  women,  and 
children  he  found  at  work  among  the  vines,  Ugo  Vitali  would 
have  struck  a  casual  observer  that  morning  as  being  a  man  as 
free  from  care  as  he  was  certainly  in  the  best  of  health  and 
prime  of  manhood.  He  was  mounted  on  the  chestnut  horse 
of  which,  a  few  days  previously,  Don  Basilio  had  advised  him 
to  get  rid  before  it  did  the  same  by  him. 

The  morning  was  yet  early,  and  Ugo  had  left  Palazzo  Vitali 
at  an  hour  when  both  his  wife  and  Fabrizio,  who  had  arrived 
two  days  before,  were  presumably  still  fast  asleep.  Had  anything 
been  wanting  finally  to  remove  all  lingering  doubts  as  to  whether 
there  had  been  the  slightest  ground,  save  that  of  pure  malice, 
for  his  anonymous  correspondent's  warning  regarding  the  friend- 
ship between  his  cousin  and  Cristina,  the  reception  given  to 
Fabrizio  by  the  latter  would  have  been  sufficient  to  accomplish 
that  object.  Ugo  had  made  a  point  of  being  at  home  when 
the  carriage  brought  his  cousin  from  the  railway  station ;  and, 
though  he  felt  ashamed  of  himself  for  doing  so,  he  had  watched 
the  meeting  between  his  wife  and  Fabrizio  very  carefully.  The 
result  had  been  that  he  was  more  than  ever  convinced  of  Cristina's 
sincerity  when  she  had  so  contemptuously  dismissed  the  scarcely 
veiled  charge  which  the  anonymous  letter  had  contained  as 
being  nothing  less  than  ridiculous.  Nothing  could  have  been 
more  natural  than  the  greetings  which  passed  between  the  two. 
Had  these  greetings  been  cold  or  indifferent,  Ugo's  suspicions 
might  have  been  again  aroused.  They  had  been  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other,  however.  Cristina's  welcome  was  the  cordial, 
easy  welcome  of  a  hostess  to  a  sympathetic  guest  who  was  also 


264  TEMPTATION 

a  relative;  while  Fabrizio's  attitude  was  equally  correct. 
Countess  Vitali,  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  her  pleasure  in  the 
fact  that  her  husband's  kinsman  had  returned  to  pay  them 
another  visit. 

"  At  last,"  she  had  said  laughingly  to  Fabrizio,  "  we  shall 
believe  that  you  were  not  bored  to  death  when  you  stayed  with 
us  before,  shall  we  not,  Ugo  ?  I  confess  that  I  have  been  hourly 
expecting  to  receive  a  telegram  saying  that  he  was  unavoidably 
prevented  from  coming." 

Ugo  had  secretly  been  delighted  at  the  result  of  his  observa- 
tion of  this  meeting,  and  reproached  himself  more  than  ever 
for  having  allowed  even  a  lingering  doubt  to  dwell  in  his  heart. 
Moreover,  Cristina's  affection  for  him  was  daily  returning  to 
what  it  had  once  been  in  the  days  that  had  lately  appeared  not 
only  far  off,  but  as  if  they  could  never  be  repeated.  It  seemed 
as  though,  with  the  near  approach  of  Fabrizio's  return  to  Palazzo 
Vitali,  Cristina  had  wished  tacitly  to  show  him  how  greatly  he 
had  been  mistaken  in  his  suspicions  of  her.  She  had  never, 
it  was  true,  alluded  again  to  these  suspicions,  nor  to  the  letter 
which  had  caused  them.  Nevertheless,  in  a  thousand  ways  she 
had  shown  him  that  her  love  for  him  was  not  dead,  as  he 
had  imagined.  If  at  moments  she  was  impatient  and  even 
irritable,  at  other  moments  she  would  make  amends  for  the 
pain  and  disappointment  she  had  doubtless  read  on  his  face. 
And  since  Fabrizio's  arrival  she  had  seemed  determined  to  show 
him,  her  husband,  more  affection  than  before. 

Surely,  Ugo  thought,  as  he  rode  through  the  dewy  country  in 
the  golden  light  of  the  September  morning,  the  old  days  were 
coming  back.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  past  couple  of  years  had 
been,  as  it  were,  a  phase  in  his  wife's  character.  He  was  more 
certain  now  than  ever  that  he  was  right  in  the  theory  he  had 
always  held  in  order  to  account  for  the  change  in  her.  She  had 
become  accustomed,  as  he  had  always  assured  himself  that  she 
would  do,  to  the  disappointment  and  mortification  of  not  being 
a  mother,  and  by  degrees  her  former  nature  and  temperament 
were  reasserting  themselves — nay,  had  reasserted  themselves. 

In  his  contentment  and  satisfaction  he  had  been  more  cordial 


TEMPTATION  265 

than  ever  to  his  cousin  Fabrizio  since  his  return.  Indeed,  he 
treated  Fabrizio  now  as  though  he  were  a  brother  rather  than  a 
fairly  distant  cousin.  Fabrizio,  he  thought  to  himself,  was  after 
all  by  no  means  a  bad  fellow,  and  it  was  ridiculous  to  despise  a 
man  simply  because  that  man  was  fond  of  society  and  had  no 
country  tastes  or  pursuits.  It  was  all  a  question  of  early  training 
and  early  surroundings.  If  Fabrizio  had  been  like  himself,  born 
and  brought  up  in  the  country,  he  too,  would  have  cared  less 
for  the  world  and  more  for  the  pleasures  of  an  out  of  door  life. 
And,  after  all,  Fabrizio  had  behaved  very  well.  Although 
poor  he  had  never  thrust  himself  upon  the  attention  of  the 
head  of  his  family  to  whom  he  was  next  of  kin.  He  had,  in- 
deed, declined  more  than  once  the  invitations  which  he,  Ugo, 
had  thought  it  only  right  to  offer  him. 

No;  it  was  absurd,  and,  worse  than  absurd,  it  was  unjust  to 
suspect  that  Fabrizio  was  capable  of  dishonourable  conduct 
towards  him,  or  had  ever  any  desire  to  inflict  upon  him  the 
cruellest  wrong  one  man  can  inflict  on  another  by  robbing  him 
of  his  wife's  affection.  In  his  heart  Ugo  Vitali  felt  a  profound 
satisfaction  that  all  suspicion  of  Fabrizio's  loyalty  as  a  relative 
and  as  a  friend  might  be  dismissed  for  ever.  Had  his  cousin 
been  a  stranger,  a  mere  friend  or  acquaintance  bearing  another 
name,  Ugo  felt  that  he  could  have  borne  disloyalty  better  than 
he  could  have  done  had  it  been  shown  him  by  one  of  his  own 
house.  At  all  events  it  would  have  been  easier  to  deal  with,  and 
the  honour  of  Casa  Vitali  would  not  have  been  besmirched  by  a 
Vitali.  That  would  have  been  intolerable  to  the  pride  he 
possessed  of  his  race  and  descent. 

After  leaving  his  vineyards,  Ugo  cantered  across  a  stretch  of 
open,  grassy  country  at  the  extremity  of  which  lay  the  wooded 
Ciminian  hills.  Far  away  on  his  right  the  sunlight  fell  upon  the 
vast  fagade  of  the  Farnese  palace  of  Caprarola,  the  many  windows 
of  which  glittered  and  flashed  in  its  rays.  His  horse,  impatient 
at  having  been  walked  quietly  along  the  terraces  of  the  vineyards, 
was  eager  for  a  gallop  on  feeling  the  turf  under  its  hoofs  and 
seeing  the  green  distance  in  front ;  while  its  rider,  exhilarated  by 
his  own  thoughts,  and  by  the  fresh  morning  air,  was  equally 


266  TEMPTATION 

disposed  to  humour  it.  Ugo  decided  that  he  would  ride  across 
the  valley  to  the  hills  where  the  high  road  branched  off  through 
the  erstwhile  spirit-haunted  Ciminian  Forest,  which  the  legions 
of  Rome  for  many  years  dared  not  penetrate,  to  the  capital  city 
some  fifty  miles  away.  From  the  spurs  of  the  hillsides  the 
ancient  Etrurian  cities,  now  reduced  to  squalid  villages,  Nepi — - 
Sutri,  Ronciglione,  and  half  a  score  of  others — shone  like  yellow 
patches  in  the  faint,  blue  haze ;  while  in  the  valleys,  fields  and 
vineyards  lay  bathed  in  mellow,  golden  light.  Semi-circled  by 
woods,  below  the  crest  of  one  of  the  lower  ranges  of  hills,  Ugo 
could  see  the  white  fagade  of  Villa  Falconara  some  five  miles 
distant.  A  longing  seized  him  to  turn  his  horse's  head  in  that 
direction,  and  to  pay  another  morning  visit  to  Donna  Vittoria,  as 
he  always  called  her  in  his  thoughts.  She  would  be  pleased  to 
hear  how  well  things  were  going  with  him ;  how,  thanks  to  her 
advice  bidding  him  confide  in  his  wife  and  let  her  see  that  he 
trusted  her,  he  had  regained  all,  or  nearly  all,  that  he  thought 
had  gone  from  him  for  ever.  Donna  Vittoria,  too,  would  be 
interested  to  hear  that  he  had  disposed  of  his  grapes  well,  even 
before  the  vintage  had  fairly  commenced. 

Almost  unconsciously,  Ugo  found  himself  heading  in  the 
direction  of  the  stately  Renaissance  villa  standing  out  from  its 
background  of  oak  and  ilex  trees.  Then  he  recollected  himself, 
and  thought  of  what  such  a  visit  might  cost  him.  Consciously 
this  time,  he  gently  turned  his  horse  in  the  direction  he  had 
originally  intended  to  take.  There  would  be  time  enough  to  call 
on  Donna  Vittoria.  Perhaps  he  would  even  write  to  her. 
Cristina  evidently  did  not  approve  of  his  visits  to  Villa  Falconara, 
nor,  he  could  not  help  suspecting,  did  she  greatly  approve  of  its 
mistress.  It  was  absurd,  of  course ;  but  jealousy  was  always 
absurd.  Supposing  he  allowed  himself  to  be  jealous  of  Fabrizio  ? 
All  the  same,  Cristina's  jealousy  pleased  him,  and  the  moment 
had  not  yet  arrived  when  he  could  persuade  her  of  its  unreason- 
ableness. Half  an  hour's  talk  with  Donna  Vittoria  would 
undoubtedly  be  very  pleasant ;  but  he  might  have  to  pay  too 
large  a  price  for  it.  Cristina  repeatedly  asked  him  if  he  had 
again  seen  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice ;  and  always  he  had  been 


TEMPTATION  267 

able  to  answer  that  he  had  not  seen  her  for  some  weeks,  because  he 
had  not  been  to  Villa  Falconara.  Whenever  he  did  go  there  again, 
he  would  announce  beforehand  to  Cristina  his  intention  of  doing 
so.  That  would  be  safer;  and  no  doubt  fairer  to  Cristina,  as 
she  was  evidently  jealous  of  Donna  Vittoria  since  the  episode  of 
the  anonymous  letter. 

Ugo  cantered  on ;  and  presently  he  reached  the  edge  of  the 
broken  ground  covered  with  short  turf  and  patched  here  and 
there  with  juniper  bushes  rising  from  beds  of  asphodel  long 
bereft  of  its  melancholy,  ghostlike  flowers.  A  rough  path  led 
through  the  brush-wood  on  the  lower  slopes  of  the  hills,  and, 
gradually  winding  upwards,  formed  a  short  cut  across  a  wooded 
ridge  to  a  corresponding  valley  below,  at  the  end  of  which,  though 
some  miles  away,  the  brown  walls  and  campanili  of  Viterbo  could  be 
seen  crowning  the  rising  ground.  These  Ciminian  woods,  silent  at 
all  seasons  of  the  year  owing  to  the  comparative  absence  of  animal 
life,  were  doubly  silent  in  the  September  stillness.  Now  and  again 
came  mysterious  rustlings  from  the  undergrowth  as  some  hedge- 
hog stirred,  or  a  snake  emerged  from  its  hiding-place  to  bask  in 
the  sun.  Round  a  turn  of  the  pathway  a  picturesque  figure  with 
slouched  hat  and  blackened  face  suddenly  appeared,  causing 
Ugo's  horse  to  shy  ;  a  man  who  would  certainly  have  been  taken 
for  a  brigand  by  an  imaginative  Anglo-Saxon  or  Teutonic  tourist. 
Count  Vitali,  however,  was  not  disturbed  in  his  mind.  He  knew 
that  the  forbidding  individual  was  no  brigand,  but  a  simple  char- 
coal-burner, and  he  wished  him  a  friendly  good  day.  The 
charcoal-burner  responded,  courteously  raising  his  felt  hat,  and 
then  he  asked  Ugo  the  time.  Count  Vitali  looked  at  his  watch — 
he  had  forgotten  all  about  the  time  in  his  meditations.  It  was 
already  half-past  nine,  and  Ugo  rode  onwards.  It  would  take 
him  more  than  an  hour  to  get  back  to  Viterbo,  and  he  did  not 
wish  to  be  late  for  breakfast.  It  had  been  settled  that  in  the 
afternoon  they  should  all  assist  at  the  vintage,  and  Fabrizio  was 
to  be  given  his  allotted  portion  of  work  to  do,  as  a  new  experience 
for  him.  If  he  were  to  keep  to  the  high  road  on  his  homeward 
ride,  Ugo  calculated  that  he  must  certainly  be  later  than  he  wished 
to  be.     By  taking  a  series  of  short  cuts  across  the  open  country  he 


268  TEMPTATION 

could  diminish  the  distance  by  a  mile  or  two,  while  it  would  be 
better  "  going  "  for  his  horse  than  on  the  road. 

Putting  the  chestnut  to  the  canter  again,  he  soon  came  to  the 
end  of  the  valley.  At  this  spot  a  low  dyke,  now  waterless  but 
during  the  winter  rains  occasionally  of  considerable  depth,  crossed 
the  valley ;  and,  in  order  to  emerge  at  the  point  on  the  Viterbo 
road  he  wished  to  make  for,  it  was  necessary  to  ride  along  the 
embankment  skirting  the  dyke.  For  precaution's  sake  Ugo 
walked  his  horse  along  this  causeway,  which  was  scarcely  more 
than  four  feet  in  breadth.  Steadied  down  by  its  canter,  the 
chestnut  was  pacing  along  quietly  enough,  and  Ugo  let  the  reins 
fall  loosely  on  its  neck  while  he  extracted  a  case  from  his  pocket 
and  proceeded  to  light  a  cigarette.  Suddenly,  and  without  the 
slightest  warning,  the  horse  gave  a  violent  buck.  Then  swerving 
to  one  side  it  lost  its  footing  at  the  edge  of  the  embankment  and 
rolled  over  into  the  dyke,  bearing  its  rider  with  it. 

How  long  he  lay  underneath  the  animal,  crushed  between  it 
and  the  side  of  the  dyke,  Ugo  never  knew.  The  last  thing  he 
remembered  was  the  sudden  sensation  of  the  horse  gathering  its 
legs  together  underneath  it,  and  feeling  its  back  stiffen  and  arch  as 
its  head  went  down  between  its  knees.  He  remembered  that, 
and  he  laughed  to  himself  as  he  thought  that  once  again  the 
creature  had  failed  to  unseat  him,  notwithstanding  all  its  cunning. 
After  that  he  had  felt  a  sudden  scramble,  a  shock — and  then 
nothing  more. 

Fortunately  for  Count  Vitali,  some  peasants  weeding  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  away  had  been  watching  the  horseman  riding  slowly 
along  the  top  of  the  dyke,  and  as  they  watched  they  had  seen 
both  horse  and  rider  suddenly  disappear. 

Guessing  what  had  occurred,  they  hurried  up  to  the  spot,  to  find 
that  the  horse  had  rolled  away  from  off  its  rider,  who  was  lying 
face  downwards  and  completely  unconscious  at  the  bottom  of  the 
dyke.  Turning  him  gently  on  his  back,  some  of  the  peasants 
recognised  Count  Vitali.  They  stood  round  him  talking  rapidly 
to  each  other,  not  knowing  what  to  do  for  the  best.  Presently, 
while  everybody  was  offering  suggestions  to  which  nobody  listened, 
Ugo  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  round  him.     Then  he  tried  to 


TEMPTATION  269 

sit  up,  but  fell  back  with  a  short  groan.  He  was  very  white,  but 
he  did  not  again  lose  consciousness. 

"Andiamo,  ragazzi!"he  said,  smiling  at  them.  "You  must 
get  me  out  of  this  ditch  between  you,  seeing  that  apparently  I  am 
unable  to  get  myself  out  of  it.  Something  hurts  me.  I  suppose 
I  have  broken  a  rib  or  two.  Two  of  you  get  up  to  the  top  of  the 
bank,  and  two  will  raise  me — so.  Now,  gently.  Ah,  bravo  !  a 
siamo  " — and  the  men  below  deposited  him  in  the  arms  of  their 
comrades  above,  while  these  in  their  turn  gently  laid  him  on  the 
causeway. 

"  And  now,"  said  Ugo  quietly,  "  look  to  the  horse,  and  see  if 
he  is  hurt.  If  he  can  walk,  one  of  you  lead  him  down  the  dyke 
to  the  ford  yonder  where  he  can  get  out." 

Apparently  the  chestnut  had  escaped  with  no  more  serious 
injury  than  a  few  cuts,  but  the  case  seemed  to  be  otherwise  with 
Count  Vitali.  He  tried  again  to  raise  himself,  and  again  a  sharp, 
internal  pain  caused  him  to  fall  back  helpless. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  It's  no  use,"  he  said  ;  "  there  is  some- 
thing wrong  with  me — something  broken,  I  suppose.  You  must 
carry  me  to  the  high  road,  and  one  of  you  must  set  off  to  Palazzo 
Vitali  in  Viterbo.  I  am  Count  Vitali.  You  must  tell  them  to 
send  a  carriage  out,  at  once.  Wait — "  and  he  endeavoured  to 
extract  a  note-book  from  his  pocket,  meaning  to  write  a  few  lines 
to  his  wife  to  tell  her  that  he  had  met  with  a  slight  accident,  but 
that  she  was  not  to  alarm  herself.  Again,  however,  the  sudden 
pain  prevented  him  from  moving.  He  was  only  comfortable 
when  lying  at  full  length  on  his  back. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said.  "Go  as  quickly  as  you  can,  and 
bring  a  carriage — any  carriage — back  with  you.  You  will  find  us 
waiting  for  you  on  the  road — there  near  the  ford." 

The  youngest  of  the  peasants  darted  away  at  full  speed  on  his 
mission,  while  Ugo  looked  round  him.  "  Leave  me  here,"  he 
said  to  the  others,  "and  see  if  you  can  take  that  gate  off  its 
hinges.  If  you  can,  bring  it  here,  and  Hft  me  on  to  it.  You  will 
carry  me  more  easily  so." 

The  peasants  did  as  they  were  bid,  and  one  of  them,  the  only 
one  who  happened  to  have  his  coat  on  his  back,  took  it  off  and 


270  TEMPTATION 

did  his  best  to  arrange  it  on  the  gate  as  a  mattress.  A  threadbare 
coat,  however,  could  do  little  to  diminish  the  jolting  as  four  of 
the  peasants  carried  the  gate  and  its  burden  to  the  road.  The 
rough  movement  caused  Ugo  to  feel  intense  pain,  and  what  made 
him  fear  that  his  injuries  might  be  of  a  serious  kind  was  the  fact 
that  his  legs  seemed  gradually  to  be  growing  ever  colder,  and 
more  numb.  The  time  seemed  endless  as  he  lay  on  the  gate  by 
the  roadside,  and,  indeed,  it  was  considerably  more  than  an  hour 
before  the  noise  of  wheels  and  a  cloud  of  dust  announced  that 
the  carriage  was  near. 

They  lifted  Ugo  into  it,  laying  him  lengthways  across  the  seats. 
Taddeo  had  accompanied  the  carriage,  and  took  instant  charge 
of  all  the  arrangements. 

"  Taddeo,"  said  Ugo,  a  little  faintly,  as  the  carriage  was  being 
rapidly  driven  towards  Viterbo,  "does  the  signora  contessa 
know  ?  " 

Taddeo  shook  his  head.  "The  signora  contessa  and  the 
signor  conte  Fabrizio  could  not  be  found,"  he  said  drily.  "  They 
had  gone  out  for  a  walk  in  the  gardens.  It  would  have  delayed 
the  carriage  had  I  continued  to  search  for  them." 

Ugo  nodded.  "  That  is  well,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  be  able  to 
tell  her  myself  that  it  is  a  trifle.  It  is  fortunate  she  and  the 
conte  Fabrizio  were  out  when  the  news  came." 

Taddeo  said  nothing ;  but  he  turned  his  face  away  lest  the 
"  signorino  "  should  see  its  expression. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

T  T  was  not  often  that  Countess  Vitali  left  her  own  rooms  before 
the  midday  breakfast.  On  this  particular  morning,  how- 
ever, she  had  appeared,  already  dressed  for  walking,  on  the 
terrace  very  soon  after  her  little  tray  of  coffee  and  rolls  had  been 
taken  to  her  by  her  maid.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  already 
settled  the  hour  of  her  appearance  when  she  and  Fabrizio  had 
been  alone  for  a  few  minutes  after  dinner  the  previous  evening. 
A  morning  walk  in  the  gardens  of  Palazzo  Vitali  before  the  hour 
of  half-past  ten  or  so,  would,  they  had  told  each  other,  be  their 
only  opportunity  during  the  day  of  finding  themselves  alone  to- 
gether. Ugo  would  certainly  have  returned  by  breakfast  time, 
and  in  the  afternoon  they  were  all  three  to  visit  the  vineyards  and 
take  part  in  the  vintage.  There  could  be  nothing  to  arouse  sus- 
picion in  Fabrizio  Vitali  accompanying  his  cousin  and  hostess  in 
a  walk  on  a  lovely  September  morning.  Moreover,  Cristina  had 
observed  to  Ugo,  in  the  presence  of  the  servants  who  were  wait- 
ing at  dinner,  that  now  the  mornings  were  much  cooler,  she 
intended  to  be  more  energetic,  and  to  walk  before  breakfast 
instead  of  remaining  within  doors. 

"  It  is  a  thousand  pities  that  I  do  not  ride,"  she  had  remarked 
laughingly  to  Ugo,  "  for  I  might  have  accompanied  you  some- 
times in  your  early  expeditions,"  and  Ugo  had  been  both  surprised 
and  delighted  at  her  suggestion. 

*'  It  would  be  very  simple,"  he  replied.  "  If  you  really  would  take 
to  riding,  I  would  find  a  quiet  horse  to  carry  you — one  about  which 
you  would  have  nothing  to  think  except  how  to  keep  him  awake  ! " 

Cristina,  however,  had  declared  that  she  was  only  joking,  and 
that  she  was  far  too  terrified  of  horses  ever  to  trust  herself  on  the 
back  of  one,  however  quiet  it  might  be — and  although  the  sub- 
ject had  dropped,  Ugo  had  been  evidently  gratified  that  his  wife 
should  have  even  thought  of  it. 

S71 


272  TEMPTATION 

It  could  not  be  said  that  either  Cristina  or  Fabrizio  Vitali  dis- 
played any  remarkable  energy  that  morning  although  the  air  was 
fresh  enough,  and  the  sun  as  yet  had  no  excessive  power.  They 
sauntered  leisurely  towards  the  far  end  of  the  gardens,  and  before 
very  long  seated  themselves  on  a  bench  in  the  shade  of  the  ilex 
avenue  whence  neither  of  them  appeared  to  have  any  inclination 
to  move. 

Fabrizio  sat  for  a  long  time  in  silence.  That  is  to  say,  his 
tongue  was  silent,  but  his  eyes  never  left  his  companion's  face, 
and  were  decidedly  the  more  unruly  members  since  they  spoke 
much  and  clearly. 

Cristina  was  thoughtful  also,  and  almost  as  silent.  She  sat  and 
traced  little  patterns  on  the  gravel  with  the  point  of  her  sunshade, 
now  and  again  glancing  at  Fabrizio  with  a  peculiar,  slow  smile, 
that  rivetted  his  eyes  on  her  face  more  closely  than  ever. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  she  said  at  length,  "  when  before  you 
went  to  Rome,  you  were  angry  with  me,  and  told  me  that  I  did 
not  keep  my  promises?" 

"  Was  it  not  natural  ?  you  did  not  keep  them,"  replied  Fabrizio, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  But  now  ?  have  I  not  kept  them  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes  !  but,  Cristina — it  was  time.  If  you  could  know  how 
I  have  suffered " 

"  I  have  suffered  too,"  said  Cristina,  and  their  eyes  met  again. 

"  All  the  same,"  she  added,  "  now  I  am  afraid." 

"  Afraid !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio,  "  and  of  what — of  whom  ? 
ofUgo?" 

Cristina  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  answered,  "not  of  Ugo, 
but  of  you  ! " 

"Of  me?" 

"  Of  you.  You  are  a  man.  You  have  got  what  you  wanted ; 
and  some  day — oh,  not  to-day,  nor  to-morrow,  nor  even  next 
year,  perhaps — you  will  grow  weary  of  what  you  have  got,  and 
you  will  seek  some  excuse  for  casting  it  away." 

"  Giamtnai !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio  indignantly.  "  How  can  you 
say  such  horrible  things,  Cristina — think  such  horrible  thoughts  ? 
Have  we  not  both  reflected  well  ?     God  knows  that  I  have  re- 


TEMPTATION  273 

fleeted  all  those  weeks  during  which  I  have  been  away  from  you. 
For  your  sake  I  have  risked  everything — I  have  deceived  Ugo 
who  trusts  me — "  he  stopped  abruptly,  with  a  sharp,  quick 
sigh. 

Countess  Vitali  looked  at  him  keenly.  Then  she  smiled. 
"  Surely,"  she  said,  "  knowing  what  you  know,  you  may  make 
your  conscience  easy  as  regards  deceiving  Ugo  !  We  have  both 
deceived  him — shall  always  deceive  him ;  as  he  has  deceived  us." 

Fabrizio's  face  cleared.  "  Yes,"  he  said  eagerly  ;  "  Ugo  has 
no  cause — no  right  to  complain.  I  say  it  to  myself  always — since 
I  have  understood  what  your  life  really  is,  and  why  he  married 
you." 

Cristina  sighed.  "  Yes,"  she  said.  "  I  did  not  understand  at 
first,  Fabrizio.  How  should  I?  I  had  no  experience  of  the 
world.  As  to  the  San  Felice  I  accepted  her  friendship  as  genuine 
— disinterested.  It  was  only  afterwards  that  I  knew.  Then  you 
came  into  my  hfe." 

"  Povera  la  mia  Cristina ! "  exclaimed  Fabrizio  caressingly. 
"  And  you  do  not  regret  that  I  have  come  into  your  Hfe — no  ?  " 

Cristina  smiled.  "  I  do  not  regret  it,"  she  replied ;  "  but,  as  I 
said  just  now,  I  am  afraid.  Until  yesterday,  I  was  not  afraid. 
I  had  not  given  you  all  you  asked  of  me.  I  felt  that  you  were 
bound  to  me — by  the  bonds  of  a  love  that  was  yet  unsatisfied. 
But  now — who  knows  ?  Perhaps  I  have  loosened  those  bonds. 
But  it  was  the  joy  of  seeing  you  again,  Fabrizio,  that  made  me 
weak — that  made  me  yield.  Ah,  if  you  could  know  what  I  have 
suffered  lately — with  Ugo  !  It  has  been  torture — torture,  I  tell 
you.  Sometimes  I  would  shut  my  eyes  and  try  to  pretend  that  it 
was  you  who  were  beside  me — you,  whose  kisses  I  felt ;  but — I 
tell  you  it  was  torture,"  she  repeated  excitedly,  "  and  it  always 
will  be  torture,  until — "  and  she  broke  off  abruptly. 

"  Until — what  ? "  asked  Fabrizio.  His  face  was  troubled. 
He  had  not  foreseen  this  complication.  In  thinking  of  his  own 
passion  he  had  forgotten,  or  scarcely  realised,  the  actual  position 
of  the  woman  he  had  desired  to  possess.  "  I  thought,"  he 
continued   hesitatingly,   "that   you   and  Ugo   were — well,    were 

no  longer " 

s 


274  TEMPTATION 

"  You  do  not  understand ! "  interrupted  Cristina  quickly. 
"  How  should  you  understand  ?  To  shield  you,  I  am  obliged 
to  submit  to  his  passion — not  to  his  love,  for  that  belongs  to 
the  San  Felice,  and  not  to  me.  It  has  never  belonged  to  me. 
And  not  only  do  I  have  to  submit  to  it,  but  I  have  to  encourage 
it — in  order  that  he  may  not  suspect,  and  that  your  life  and 
prospects  may  not  be  ruined  because  you  and  I  love  each  other. 
Can  you  not  understand  the  torture  ?  There  is  no  escape 
from  it — none ;  for  escape  would  mean  the  discovery  of  our 
love,  and  your  ruin." 

"  Cristina  !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "  That  is  horrible — cruel ! 
What  can  I  do,  Dio  mio  ?  " 

"  Nothing  !  I  should  not  have  told  you.  Only,  I  wished  you 
to  know  what  I  suffer  for  your  sake,  Fabrizio.  Do  you  wonder 
that  I  feel  afraid  when  I  think  that,  some  day,  having  tired  of 
me  you  might  cast  me  off?  Men  do  that,  you  know.  How 
can  I  tell  that,  if  my  escape  were  to  come — if  some  unexpected 
circumstance  set  me  free — you  would  repay  me  for  what  I  suffer 
now  ?  " 

"  Bat  you  do  feel  it — you  must  feel  it ! "  burst  out  Fabrizio. 
'*  Do  you  think  that  I  am  a  mascalzone,  Cristina  ?  If  you  were 
free,  we  would  marry,  would  we  not?  For  my  part,  I  swear 
that  I  would  marry  you,  and  no  other  woman — for  the  sake  of 
my  love  for  you,  and  for  my  honour." 

"  Ah,"  said  Countess  Vitali,  "  honour — that  is  an  elastic  term." 

Fabrizio  winced.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  mean,  that  very  often  men  are  cruel  and  unjust  to  women 
m  order  to  protect  what  they  call  their  honour,  or  the  honour 
of  their  family." 

"  Not  where  men  love,  and  know  that  they  are  loved,"  re- 
turned Fabrizio. 

Cristina  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"In  any  case,"  he  continued,  earnestly,  "if  you  are  afraid, 
you  are  wronging  me.  Have  I  not  sworn  to  you  just  now  that 
if  by  some  chance  you  were  to  be  free,  I  would  marry  you  ?  And 
if  you  are  never  free — well,  we  must  live  for  each  other  as  best 
we  can.     Ugo  evidently  does  not  mean  to  continue  living  the  life 


TEMPTATION  275 

he  has  hitherto  obliged  you  to  lead.  You  will  come  to  Rome, 
and  live  in  the  world — and  in  the  world  people  who  are  sensible 
can  make  their  own  lives  and  their  own  opportunities  for  en- 
joying those  lives." 

Cristina  let  her  eyes  rest  full  on  his  face,  and  her  gaze  seemed 
to  hold  his  own  spell-bound. 

"  You  swear  that  if  I  were  one  day  to  be  free,  you  would 
marry  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  swear  it." 

Cristina  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  I  am  not  afraid  any 
more,"  she  said  presently.  She  rose  from  the  bench,  and 
walked  slowly  down  the  ilex  avenue  with  Fabrizio  by  her  side. 
"Ugo  will  probably  have  returned,"  Cristina  observed,  as  they 
turned  into  a  viale  leading  towards  the  house.  "  There  is  the 
clock  striking  half-past  ten,"  she  added. 

As  they  approached  the  house,  the  porter  came  hastily  towards 
them. 

"  Signora  contessa,"  he  said,  "  the  signer  conte  has  met 
with  an  accident — a  fall  from  his  horse.  The  carriage  has  gone 
to  bring  him  home  and  Taddeo  has  gone  with  it. 

Countess  Vitali's  face  flushed  suddenly,  and  then  turned  very 
white. 

"  An  accident  ? "  she  repeated,  mechanically.  "  Is  it — 
serious?" 

"A  peasant  brought  the  news,"  the  porter  replied;  "the 
signer  conte  sent  him — and  he  was  to  say  that  the  accident  was 
not  grave.  But  the  signor  conte  cannot  walk — and  who  knows  ? 
That  cursed  horse  !  the  signore  would  ride  it,  and  every  one  said 
that  sooner  or  later  there  would  be  a  disgrazta." 

Fabrizio  and  Cristina  looked  at  each  other  in  silence,  and  the 
same  thought  was  in  their  minds.  It  was  strange  how  in  an 
instant — in  a  flash — the  whole  of  life  could  change.  Fabrizio 
was  conscious  of  feeling  a  genuine  sorrow.  Ugo  had  always 
been  good  to  him.  That  was  the  worst  of  it.  He  wished  now 
that  his  cousin  had  not  been  so.  He  looked  at  Cristina  guiltily, 
and  searched  in  vain  for  words,  but  none  would  come  to  his 
Ups. 


276  TEMPTATION 

"Taddeo  looked  for  the  signora  contessa  before  starting 
with  the  carriage,"  said  the  porter,  surprised  at  the  silence 
between  them,  "and  we  have  sent  for  Doctor  Sacchetti  and 
begged  him  to  come  at  once,  so  as  to  be  here  when  the  signor 
conte  arrives." 

"Sarchctti?"  repeated  Countess  Vitali.  "At  this  hour  he 
will  not  be  at  his  house — he  spends  the  mornings  at  the  hospital." 

"  It  is  to  the  hospital  we  have  sent,"  explained  the  porter. 
"  The  signor  dottore  will  certainly  come  at  once,  for  he  and  the 
signor  conte,  poveretto,  are  great  friends.  Scusino,  signori"  he 
added.  "  I  think  I  hear  the  carriage  in  the  distance.  I  will 
return  to  iht  portone." 

"  Yes,  yes,  go  ! "  said  Cristina  impatiently ;  and,  followed  by 
Fabrizio,  she  hurriedly  ascended  the  steps  leading  up  to  the 
terrace  and  went  into  the  house. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  dull  rumble  of  the  carriage  wheels  enter- 
ing the  courtyard  re-echoed  through  Palazzo  Vitali,  and  Countess 
Vitali  and  Fabrizio  were  at  the  entrance  door.  Ugo  smiled  when 
he  saw  his  wife.  "It  is  nothing,  Cristina,"  he  said,  "do  not 
alarm  yourself  I  think  I  may  have  broken  a  rib,  perhaps — but 
nothing  more  serious." 

Cristina's  face  which  had  been  fixed  and  set  as  marble  changed 
suddenly  as  she  heard  his  words. 

"  You  are  sure  ?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

"Of  course.  That  devil  of  a  horse  bucked  as  usual,  and  then 
he  must  needs  fall  on  the  top  of  me  into  a  ditch."  Ugo's  voice 
was  weak,  and  his  face  betrayed  signs  of  the  pain  he  had  endured 
during  the  rapid  drive  homeward.  He  was  lifted  carefully  out  of 
the  carriage  under  Taddeo's  superintendence,  and  carried  up  to 
his  own  room. 

"There  is  one  thing  I  forgot,"  he  said,  as  they  laid  him  gently 
on  the  bed.  "  That  gate,  somebody  must  see  that  it  is  replaced, 
for  there  is  stock  in  those  fields.  And,  Cristina,  you  will  send 
money  to  those  peasants  who  helped  me.  But  for  them,  I 
should  be  still  lying  at  the  bottom  of  that  ditch." 

He  had  scarcely  been  settled  on  the  bed  when  Dr  Sacchetti 
hastily  entered  the  room  ;  a  little,  nervous  man  with  iron-grey  hair 


TEMPTATION  277 

and  beard,  and  quick,  intelligent  eyes.  Doctor  Sacchetti  was  well 
known  not  only  in  Viterbo  where  he  was  the  leading  surgeon, 
but  also  enjoyed  a  considerable  reputation  among  his  fellow- 
doctors  in  Rome.  He  knew  Count  Vitali  intimately,  and  the  two 
had  a  mutual  respect  for  one  another. 

"  Perbacco,  conte  ! "  he  exclaimed  cheerfully,  as  he  went  up 
to  the  bedside.  "What  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself? 
They  tell  me  you  have  fallen  from  your  horse — you  I  I  cannot 
believe  it." 

As  he  spoke  he  looked  searchingly  into  Ugo's  face,  and  then 
his  eyes  travelled  critically  downwards. 

In  a  few  words  Ugo  explained  what  had  happened.  "  I  have 
a  sharp  pain  when  I  try  to  sit  up,"  he  said,  "but  what  I  mind 
more  than  the  pain  is  the  coldness  and  numbness  in  my  legs," 

"  Shock,"  said  Dr  Sacchetti  briefly.  "  It  would  be  a  more 
serious  affair,  probably,  if  you  felt  no  pain.  Signora  contessa,  I 
fear  I  must  ask  you  to  retire  while  I  make  a  little  examination. 
Everybody,  please,  will  retire,  and  you,"  turning  to  Taddeo,  "  will 
remain." 

"Go  and  have  some  breakfast — Cristina,  you  and  Fabrizio," 
said  Ugo  to  his  wife.  "  The  doctor  will  join  you  later,  and  tell 
you  that  I  have  given  you  a  fright  for  nothing  at  all.  It  is 
unfortunate,  for  I  shall  certainly  not  be  able  to  accompany  you  to 
the  vineyards  this  afternoon,  and  I  had  been  looking  forward  to 
seeing  Fabrizio  in  a  blouse,  picking  the  grapes !  " 

"  Conte,"  observed  Doctor  Sacchetti,  "  you  will  have  the  kind- 
ness not  to  talk,  except  when  I  ask  you  to  answer  a  question. 
Signora  contessa,  may  I  ask  you  to  leave  us  at  once  ?  in  these 
cases  the  sooner  we  learn  what  may  be  amiss,  the  better." 

The  room  emptied  at  once  after  this.  Countess  Vitali  and 
Fabrizio  went  to  the  drawing-room  and  presently  the  doors  of  the 
dining-room  were  opened  by  the  footman,  who  announced  that 
breakfast  was  served.  Cristina  told  the  lad  to  leave  the  dishes  on 
the  table  and  not  to  wait.  She  and  Fabrizio  went  through  a 
form  of  eating,  but  Cristina  scarcely  took  her  eyes  off  the  clock 
standing  on  a  console  opposite  to  her  chair.  The  minutes  crept 
by,  and  the  clock  had  twice  chimed  the  quarters  before  the 


278  TEMPTATION 

doctor  appeared.  In  the  meantime,  the  two  had  said  little  to 
each  other.  Fabrizio  watched  Cristina's  face  curiously,  and 
wondered  what  her  thoughts  could  be.  His  own  were  in  a  state 
of  absolute  confusion.  Supposing  Ugo  were  to  be  maimed — 
crippled  for  life?  that  would  mean  the  same  for  Cristina  and 
himself  as  if  Ugo  were  to  recover,  and  the  accident  prove  to 
be  nothing  but  a  temporary  inconvenience.  But  if  Ugo  were 
to  die?  The  doctor  was  a  long  time  making  his  examination, 
what  if  he  had  discovered  some  severe  internal  injuries  that  he 
suspected  would  prove  fatal  ? 

Fabrizio  recoiled  from  this  latter  thought.  It  would  be 
terrible  if  Ugo  should  die  like  that — struck  down  in  the  prime  of 
life  and  in  a  moment  of  perfect  health.  Had  it  been  an  illness — 
well,  every  one  was  liable  to  contract  a  fatal  illness — those  things 
formed  the  chances  of  war,  as  it  were.  And  Ugo  had  been  good 
to  him — always  good  to  him.  No,  he  did  not  want  Ugo  to  die  from 
a  sudden  accident.     It  would  be  unnatural — terrible. 

Cristina's  face  told  him  nothing.  It  was  an  impenetrable  mask. 
Only  the  expression  of  her  eyes  as  she  had  watched  the  hands  of 
the  clock  betrayed  that  she  was  a  prey  to  consuming  anxiety. 
Long  before  the  doctor's  appearance  they  had  risen  from  the 
breakfast-table ;  to  which,  indeed,  they  had  sat  down  more  from 
force  of  habit  than  from  any  inclination  to  eat  of  things  upon  it. 

Doctor  Sacchetti  advanced  towards  them,  and  his  face  was 
grave,  but  not,  Fabrizio  thought,  by  any  means  despairing. 

"  Ebbene,  signora  contessa,"  he  said,  "  there  are  no  broken 
bones — no ;  but  all  the  same,  the  count  will  have  to  be  careful — 
very  careful  for  some  days.  I  have  made  my  examination,  and  I 
find — "  he  paused  for  a  moment. 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Cristina  abruptly. 

"  I  will  explain  to  you,"  continued  Doctor  Sacchetti  quietly. 
"  If  the  count  had  fallen  on  his  head,  he  would  now  be  suffering 
from  a  concussion  of  the  brain.  The  case  would  be  simpler  than 
it  is.  He  is  suffering  from  internal  injuries,  caused  by  the  weight 
of  the  horse's  body.  I  have  found  nothing  to  lead  me  to  believe 
that  these  injuries  are  dangerous  in  themselves.  Indeed,  I 
believe  that  they  are  not  so,  and  that  with  perfect  repose  and 


TEMPTATION  279 

proper  treatment  the  count  will  recover  from  them  in  a  com- 
paratively short  time.  But  one  cannot  be  sure  of  how  things  will 
go — not,  at  any  rate,  for  some  few  days.  Some  comjjlication, 
unforeseen  at  present,  might  arise  unexpectedly  to  upset  all  our 
calculations.  That  is  the  danger  in  these  cases  of  visceral  con- 
cussion. Of  course,  signora  contessa,  we  shall  do  our  best  to 
guard  against  any  complication;  and  you  need  not  be  unduly 
anxious,  for  there  is  nothing  at  present  to  be  alarmed  about. 
Complete  repose,  and  the  treatment  I  shall  give,  should  easily 
work  a  cure  in  the  case  of  so  healthy  a  man  as  Count  Vitali.  Of 
course,  if  certain  complications  were  to  arise,  such  as  internal  in- 
flammation for  instance,  I  should  be  more  uneasy  than  I  am; 
and,  in  that  case,  I  should  prefer  to  summon  a  colleague  from 
Rome  for  a  consultation." 

"I  understand,"  said  Countess  Vitalia  quietly;  "you  see  no 
present  cause  for  alarm,  but  sudden  complications  might  arise 
which  would  greatly  increase  the  danger  of — of  a  fatal  result.  Is 
not  this  your  meaning,  signor  professore  ?  " 

The  professor,  for  he  had  the  right  to  that  distinction  which 
he  had  gained  by  virtue  of  his  successful  contributions  to  the 
literature  of  scientific  research,  looked  at  her  with  some  surprise 
at  her  calmness  of  voice  and  manner. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  that  is  precisely  what  I  mean.  I  am  glad 
to  see,  contessa,  that  you  do  not  underrate  the  possible — I  say, 
possible — gravity  of  the  case.  It  is  as  well  always  to  be  prepared 
for  emergencies,  though  we  may  have  every  reason  to  believe 
that  they  will  not  present  themselves." 

"And  may  one  ask,  signoi  professore,  what  your  treatment 
will  be  ? "  demanded  Countess  Vitali.  "  I  shall  take  upon  myself, 
of  course,  to  see  that  it  is  strictly  carried  out." 

Doctor  Sacchetti  rubbed  his  hands.  Countess  Vitali,  he 
thought,  seemed  to  be  a  sensible  woman — more  sensible  than  he 
had  been  led  to  suppose. 

"As  to  the  treatment,"  he  replied,  "for  the  present  it  will 
be  very  simple.  Complete  repose — as  I  say — and  the  most 
careful  dieting.  The  count,  I  fear,  will  suffer  more  pain  in  a  few 
hours'  time  than  he  does  at  present.     I  have  given  him  an  injec- 


280  TEMPTATION 

tion  of  morfina  to  quiet  the  system ;  and,  should  the  pain  become 
severe  enough  to  make  him  restless,  these  injections  must  be 
repeated — strictly  according  to  my  directions.  I  can  send  you 
an  znferviiere — one  of  my  men  from  the  hospital,  if  you  wish — 
though  I  do  not  know  that  there  is  any  absolute  necessity  for  the 
signor  conte  to  have  a  nurse  at  present.  I  mentioned  the  subject 
to  him,  and  the  idea  seemed  to  annoy  him.  He  declares  that 
his  servant  can  do  everything  for  him,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
excite  him  in  any  way.  A  stranger  might  do  more  harm  than 
good.  Is  your  servant,  Taddeo — I  think  he  is  called — a  reliable 
man  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  replied  Cristina,  "and  I,  signor  professore,  am 
also  a  reliable  woman.  I  should  not  wish  to  leave  my  husband 
to  the  care  of  a  servant,  or  even  of  a  nurse — unless,  of  course, 
you  see  any  objection  to  my  being  with  him.  I  am  sure  that  a 
strange  face  would  be  unpleasant  to  him.  As  you  say  the  treat- 
ment is  of  the  most  simple,  I  imagine  that  I  shall  be  competent 
to  carry  it  out — under  your  supervision,  of  course." 

"  Benissimo,"  answered  Doctor  Sacchetti.  "  The  only  part  of 
my  treatment  which  might  be  troublesome  to  you  is  the  injections 
of  morfina.  These,  however,  if  they  have  to  be  repeated,  I  will 
do  myself,  lest  there  should  be  any  mistake." 

"  Can  the  morfina  not  be  given  by  mouth  ?  "  asked  Cristina. 

The  professor  shook  his  head.  "  Not  in  this  case,"  he  said. 
"  We  must  do  nothing  to  irritate  the  internal  organs.  That  is 
why  I  prefer  to  inject  it,  if  necessary.  The  effect  is  much  more 
rapid,  and  the  risks  are  considerably  lessened,  if  not  altogether 
avoided." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  attentively  while  he  was  speaking. 
"  You  see  how  ignorant  I  am,"  she  said,  with  a  slight  smile. 
"But,  so  far  as  the  nursing  is  concerned,  that  at  least  I  can 
superintend.  Taddeo  is  devoted  to  my  husband,  yes,  but  he  is 
certainly  more  ignorant  than  I.  Ugo  has  never  been  ill,  and  he 
might  rebel  against  a  rigime  of  strict  diet.  There  would  always 
be  the  danger  of  his  ordering  Taddeo  to  bring  him  something 
which  he  should  not  have,  and  the  man  would  probably  obey 
him." 


TEMPTATION  281 

"Exactly  !"  agreed  the  professor.  "That  is  always  the  danger 
in  nursing  when  it  is  left  to  servants.  They  are  apt  to  regard 
doctors'  orders  as  storle,  and  doctors  themselves  as  assassins.  I 
shall  be  quite  satisfied,  signora  contessa,  at  all  events  as  matters 
now  stand,  to  feel  that  you  are  here  to  see  that  my  instructions 
are  carried  out  to  the  letter.  If  I  see  any  reason  to  send  an 
infermiere  from  the  hospital,  you  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  do  so, 
and  Count  Vitali  must  submit  to  his  presence.  I  need  hardly 
tell  you  that  all  agitation  must  be  avoided ;  and  that  the  less  our 
patient  talks,  the  better.  I  have  given  the  servant  all  instructions, 
and  for  the  present  Count  Vitali  must  be  left  perfectly  quiet. 
The  morfina  I  have  given  him  will,  I  hope,  induce  sleep,  which 
will  be  the  best  of  all  remedies  to  begin  with.  Later,  he  will 
require  a  little  nourishment.  That,  also,  I  have  written  down. 
I  shall  return  this  afternoon,  about  five  o'clock,  and  take  the 
temperature.  It  is  now  less  than  normal,  owing  to  shock.  I 
trust  we  shall  have  no  symptoms  of  fever,  though  there  is  sure 
to  be  a  rise  of  temperature  between  four  and  six  o'clock." 

Doctor  Sacchetti  declined  breakfast,  and  hurried  back  to  his 
hospital  where  he  worked  from  early  in  the  morning  to  midday, 
after  which  he  devoted  himself  to  his  private  practice. 

"  Do  you  really  mean  to  nurse  Ugo  ? "  Fabrizio  asked,  after 
the  door  had  closed  upon  the  doctor. 

"Why  not?"  returned  Cristina,  and  there  was  a  touch  of 
defiance  in  her  voice.  Fabrizio  did  not  reply.  It  was  impossible 
to  read  Cristina's  thoughts.  Did  she,  or  did  she  not  feel  this 
sudden  occurrence  which,  however  cautious  Doctor  Sacchetti 
might  be  in  his  language,  might  undoubtedly  lead  to  a  condition 
of  things  that  so  short  a  time  previously  she  had  qualified  as  an 
escape  from  her  present  position  ? 

"It  is  a  horrible  thing,"  he  exclaimed  suddenly.  "I  wish  to 
God  it  had  never  happened,  Cristina  !  " 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  penetratingly.  "  Do  you 
really  wish  that?"  she  asked.  Think  what — what  Ugo's  death 
would  mean  to  you.  Perhaps  it  is  destiny,  this  accident.  Who 
knows  ?  " 

Fabrizio    turned    quickly    away    from   her.      "  Before   God, 


282  TEMPTATION 

Cristina,  I  swear  that  I  had  forgotten  all  that  it  would 
mean  to  me  —  I  never  thought  of  it  until  this  moment ; 
I  do  not  wish  to  think  of  it,  for  I  should  feel  myself  like  a 
murderer.  Why  do  you  remind  me  of  it — why  have  you  always 
reminded  me  of  it  ?  I  was  thinking  of  the  difference  it  would 
make  to  us — to  our  position.  The  other  is  nothing ;  and  I  wish 
that  Ugo  and  I  bore  different  names  and  had  nothing  to  do 
with  each  other.  Do  you  not  care,  Cristina?  do  you  not  care 
at  all  that  he  lies  there — so  suddenly  struck  down — and  that  at 
any  moment  some  little  thing  may  place  his  life  in  danger?" 

"  I  care  for  you,  and  for  you  only,"  replied  Cristina  in  a  low 
voice.  "I  am  quite  honest,  you  see.  Ugo  killed  my  love  for 
him.  He  might  have  had  it,  but  he  killed  it.  You  know  why  he 
married  me,  and  I,  who  know  it  also,  can  you  expect  me 
honestly  to  say  that  I  care  ?  I  am  sorry,  yes,  deeply  sorry,  and 
shocked,  if  you  like,  and  I  shall  do  my  duty  to  the  man  who 
is  my  husband.  But  I  do  not  care  in  the  sense  that  you  mean. 
The  Duchessa  di  San  Felice,  perhaps,  will  do  that,  when  the 
news  reaches  her." 

A  sudden  wave  of  repugnance  swept  through  Fabrizio's  heart — 
a  repugnance  which  for  the  moment  was  physical  as  well  as 
moral. 

"  You  are  hard,"  he  said  simply. 

"I  am  just.  If  something  liad  happened  to  me,  would  Ugo 
have  cared — in  that  way — so  long  as  the  San  Felice  lived  ?  He 
would  have  been  sorry — shocked,  as  I  am  sorry  and  shocked. 
But  that  is  compassion,  natural  sympathy  for  one  in  misfortune ; 
it  is  not  love." 

Fabrizio  experienced  a  certain  sense  of  relief,  and  immediately 
he  reproached  himself  for  having  misjudged  her.  After  all,  she 
was  honest.  How  could  she  love  Ugo  ?  and  was  he,  Fabrizio,  to 
blame  her  for  loving  him  ? 

"Forgive  me!"  he  said,  "I  did  not  understand.  Of  course 
there  is  a  difference !  But  I  am  glad  you  feel  it,  Cristina,  and 
I  am  glad  that  you  are  shocked.  I  should  not  have  liked  to 
think  that  you  fell  nothing.  It  would  be  unnatural — inhuman — to 
feel  nothing." 


TEMPTATION  283 

"  But  of  course !  only,  do  not  expect  me  to  feel  as  I  should  feel 
if  I  loved.  I  could  not — and  you  could  not  expect  me  to  do  so. 
Can  you  not  understand,  Fabrizio  ?  In  my  life  I  have  loved  no 
one  but  you,  and  nothing,  nothing  can  be  to  me  as  our  love — 
yours  and  mine.     Some  day,  perhaps,  you  will  understand  better." 

She  spoke  with  an  earnestness  and  a  sincerity  which  would 
have  convinced  a  far  more  doubting  man  than  Fabrizio;  and, 
indeed,  for  once  at  any  rate  in  her  life  Cristina  spoke  the  truth. 

"There  is  another  thing  that  I  must  say  to  you,  Cristina," 
Fabrizio  began. 

"Another  misunderstanding?" 

"I  hope  not — I  think  not.  Now  that  this  has  happened,  I 
cannot  stay  on  here.  You  must  see  that  for  yourself.  It  would 
be  impossible.     To-morrow  I  must  return  to  Rome,  and  wait." 

"Fabrizio  !"  exclaimed  Cristina.  "  What  are  you  saying ?  It 
is  absurd.  You  have  got  some  scruple  in  your  head.  You  are 
full  of  scruples — I  have  always  told  you  so.  It  is  not  worth 
while — and  besides,  they  come  too  late — now  ! " 

But  Fabrizio  Vitali  was  obstinate.  "  I  cannot  stay  here,  alone 
with  you,"  he  said  firmly.  "I  will  not,  Cristina.  With  Ugo 
lying  ill,  do  you  think  I  should  not  feel  that  I  was  wronging  him 
doubly  ?  It  is  a  scruple,  if  you  like,  and  perhaps  I  am  illogical, 
but  to  be  in  Ugo's  house  now — to  be  eating  his  bread  while  he  is 
helpless  and  perhaps  in  danger  of  his  life — no  !  You  must  let  me 
go.  If  anything  happened  to  Ugo,  we  should  be  glad,  afterwards, 
that  I  did  not  remain  here.  We  are  neither  of  us  strong  enough, 
Cristina,  less  strong  than  ever  now.  And  if — no !  it  would  be 
too  cowardly,  too  vile  !  " 

For  a  moment  a  look  of  terrible  anger  swept  across  Countess 
Vitali's  face.  Her  eyes  contracted  and  her  whole  body  trembled 
with  passion. 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed,  "already,  Fabrizio,  already?  I  had 
not  expected  that  you  would  leave  me  so  soon  ! " 

Fabrizio  looked  at  her  in  dismay.  "  Cristina ! "  he  cried, 
"  per  carita  1  Are  you  mad  ?  Cannot  you  see  that  I  must  go — 
for  your  sake  and  for  my  own  ?  And  Ugo,  what  would  he  think 
if  I  remained  ?  it  would  make  him,  and  everybody,  suspect  1 " 


284  TEMPTATION 

Cristina  swept  past  him  and  began  to  walk  rapidly  up  and 
down  the  room.  Presently  she  came  towards  him  and  seizing 
his  hand  pressed  it  to  her  lips.  Her  anger  had  disappeared  and 
her  face  and  manner  were  equally  composed. 

"  Forgive  me,  Fabrizio  mio,"  she  said  softly.  "  Forgive  me  ! 
Yes,  you  are  right,  you  must  certainly  go !  I  will  tell  Ugo,  the — 
servants — that  you  are  going  to-morrow.  Only,  the  thought  that 
we  must  be  separated  again  so  soon  upset  me  and  made  me  say 
foolish  things — unjust  things.  No,  go,  amore  mio,  go !  Perhaps 
it  will  not  be  for  very  long.  Ugo  must  either  recover,  or — " 
and  she  paused  abruptly.  "  In  either  case,"  she  continued,  "  you 
would  return  to  Palazzo  Vitali.  In  the  one  case  as  guest ;  but 
in  the  other — in  the  other,  Fabrizio,  as  master  of  all — of  me  ! " 
She  broke  off  with  a  sob  in  her  voice.  "Now  we  must  leave 
each  other,"  she  said  presently.  "  I  must  go  to  Ugo,  and  relieve 
Taddeo  who  has  never  left  him.  We  shall  meet  later,  if  all  is 
well.  Sacchetti  must  find  me  with  Ugo  when  he  comes  again 
at  five  o'clock."  And  without  another  word  she  went  quickly 
from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

npHREE  days  had  now  elapsed  since  Ugo  Vitali's  mishap. 
-*■  As  Doctor  Sacchetti  had  at  once  discovered  in  the  course 
of  his  preliminary  examination,  Ugo  was  suffering  from  internal 
concussion  consequent  upon  having  fallen  beneath  his  horse. 
When  he  returned  to  Palazzo  Vitali  on  the  evening  of  the  acci- 
dent, the  doctor  found  that,  as  he  had  anticipated,  his  patient's 
temperature  had  risen  from  the  normal  thirty-seven  degrees  to 
within  a  point  or  two  of  thirty-eight.  The  pain,  too,  which  had 
at  first  only  manifested  itself  when  Ugo  tried  to  raise  himself 
into  a  sitting  posture,  had  become  more  or  less  incessant.  This 
state  of  things,  however,  had  not  continued.  After  a  few 
hours  the  temperature  had  fallen  again,  to  Professor  Sacchetti's 
great  satisfaction.  It  was  evident  that,  for  the  present  at  any 
rate,  there  was  no  fever,  the  temporary  rise  having  been  almost 
inevitable  after  the  shock  Count  Vitali  had  received.  Neverthe- 
less, that  rise  had  been  somewhat  higher  than  the  doctor  had 
liked;  and  he  was  by  no  means  satisfied  that  Ugo  had  not 
sustained  some  internal  injury  which  might  at  any  moment  cause 
more  serious  symptoms  to  develop  themselves. 

Although  Ugo  still  complained  of  pain,  and  occasionally  of 
nausea,  his  temperature  had  not  again  risen  to  more  than  three  or 
four  points  above  the  normal,  and  Doctor  Sacchetti  argued  that 
therefore  no  serious  mischief  was  going  on,  and  that  it  might  be 
hoped  Count  Vitali  would,  after  a  few  days'  complete  rest  and 
treatment,  lose  every  disquieting  symptom.  The  professor  had 
found,  indeed,  when  he  visited  his  patient  on  the  third  day,  that 
both  the  pain  and  the  occasional  fits  of  nausea  had  considerably 
diminished,  though  they  had  by  no  means  entirely  disappeared. 

Countess  Vitali  had  been  indefatigable  in  her  constant 
attendance  upon  her  husband,  and  the  doctor  had  no  reason  to 
complain  that  his  instructions  were  not  punctually  carried  out. 

38s 


286  TEMPTATION 

Nothing  would  induce  Ugo  to  consent  to  having  an  infermiere. 
Indeed,  Doctor  Sacchetti  had  at  once  abstained  from  pressing 
the  point  when  he  saw  that  the  idea  of  being  nursed  by  a  stranger 
was  so  distasteful  to  his  patient. 

Although  he  had  every  reason  to  be  fairly  satisfied  with  the 
progress  Count  Vitali  was  making,  the  professor  was  extremely 
cautious  in  his  statements.  Countess  Vitali,  evidently,  was  a 
sensible  woman,  he  thought,  and  it  was  not  necessary  to  conceal 
from  her  the  fact  that  it  was  not  yet  time  to  assert  definitely 
that  all  danger  of  possible  complications  might  be  considered  as 
past.  There  was  still  pain,  and  there  was  still,  occasionally,  that 
sensation  of  nausea  which  showed  the  internal  organs  to  be 
always  suffering  from  "commotion,"  though  in  a  lesser  degree. 
Countess  Vitali  herself  was  the  first  to  ask  the  professor  whether 
all  danger  could  be  considered  at  an  end  until  these  symptoms 
had  ceased,  and  she  had  risen  in  his  estimation  accordingly. 
He  was  fully  alive  to  the  necessity  for  caution  in  similar  cases. 
Carelessness  in  following  the  treatment  he  had  prescribed,  or  the 
slightest  imprudence  in  the  matter  of  diet  might,  he  assured 
Cristina,  yet  produce  the  gravest  complications. 

Up  to  the  present  there  was  certainly  no  occasion  for  him 
to  summon  another  opinion  from  Rome.  All  that  was  needed 
was  judicious  treatment,  and  careful  watching  for  any  unfavour- 
able symptom  which  might  point  to  the  existence  of  some  internal 
lesion  which,  owing  to  the  nature  of  the  accident,  might  have 
been  apprehended. 

In  the  meantime,  Fabrizio  Vitali  had  taken  his  departure  and 
returned  to  Rome.  Countess  Vitali  had  promised  him  that  she 
would  keep  him  regularly  informed  of  Ugo's  state.  He  had  left 
the  day  after  the  accident.  Notwithstanding  her  anger  when  he 
had  first  declared  that  he  could  not  remain  at  Palazzo  Vitali 
while  Ugo  was  lying  ill,  Cristina  had  afterwards  appeared  to  be 
almost  feverishly  anxious  that  her  lover  should  go.  When  Ugo 
was  able  to  get  about  again  Fabrizio  would,  of  course,  return  to 
complete  his  visit  which  had  been  so  suddenly  interrupted ;  but 
until  then,  as  Cristina  assured  him,  it  was  better  that  he  should 
not  be  at  Palazzo  Vitali. 


TEMPTATION  287 

Fabrizio  himself  had  been  greatly  relieved  at  this  sudden 
change  in  her  attitude.  It  was  illogical,  no  doubt,  but  though 
he  had  not  allowed  his  scruples  to  prevent  him  from  deceiving 
Ugo,  he  felt  he  could  not  continue  to  do  so  at  this  particular 
juncture.  At  least  by  going  away  he  would  be  placing  himself 
out  of  temptation.  It  pleased  him  to  think  that  Cristina,  after  a 
few  moments'  opposition,  had  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion, 
and  that  she  had  not  striven  to  keep  him  at  Palazzo  Vitali. 
There  would  be  something  heartless,  almost  brutal,  in  their 
being  together  while  Ugo  was  stricken  down  by  an  accident  of 
which  the  doctor  was  as  yet  unable  to  state  the  severity  or 
possible  consequences.  Cristina,  he  told  himself,  was  doing 
right  in  devoting  herself  to  Ugo  at  such  a  moment — however 
much  Ugo  might  have  deceived  her  and  made  her  Hfe  unhappy. 
If  anything  were  to  happen — any  unlucky  termination  to  this 
accident — they  would  both  be  glad  to  feel  that  their  conduct  had 
not  been  utterly  unfeeling  and  heartless. 

The  news  of  what  had  befallen  Count  Vitali  had  naturally 
spread  far  and  wide,  and  the  porter  at  Palazzo  Vitali  was  kept 
busily  employed  in  answering  the  many  inquiries  made  at  the 
portone  of  the  palace. 

Among  the  first  to  make  these  inquiries  was  the  Duchessa  di 
San  Felice  who,  accompanied  by  Don  Basilio,  drove  from  Villa 
Falconara  late  the  same  afternoon  and  arrived  at  Palazzo  Vitali  at 
the  moment  when  Professor  Sacchetti  was  leaving  it  after  having 
paid  his  second  visit  to  his  patient. 

The  account  he  gave  to  the  duchessa  was  perhaps  a  little  more 
unsatisfactory  than  his  report  to  Countess  Vitali.  He  did  not  like 
to  commit  himself  to  an  opinion  at  so  early  a  stage,  he  told 
Vittoria,  who  detained  him  for  some  minutes  by  the  side  of  her 
pony-phaeton.  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  had  asked  if  Countess 
Vitali  would  care  to  see  her,  and  had  been  informed  that  she  was 
in  close  attendance  upon  the  signor  conte  and  could  receive  no 
one.  The  porter,  garrulous  as  most  of  his  kind,  had  further 
volunteered  the  information  that  the  Conte  Fabrizio  was  leaving 
early  the  following  morning  for  Rome;  and  at  that  piece  of 
intelligence  Vittoria  and  Don  Basilio  had  exchanged  a   rapid 


288  TEMPTATION 

glance  which  they  afterwards  hoped  had  passed  unnoticed  both 
by  the  porter  and  by  Professor  Sacchetti  who  was  Hstening  to  the 
conversation. 

Vittoria  left  a  pencilled  note  saying  that  should  Countess 
Vitali  like  to  see  her,  she  would  come  over  at  any  time ;  and  that 
Don  Basilio  would  come  to  Count  Vitali  whenever  he  might  be 
better  and  allowed  to  receive  a  visitor. 

In  the  meantime  Cristina's  attendance  upon  her  husband  was 
of  so  close  a  character  as  to  excite  surprise  in  the  small  household 
at  Palazzo  Vitali ;  while  it  also  had  the  effect  of  arousing  some 
indignation  on  the  part  of  Taddeo,  wlio  saw  in  it  a  want  of 
confidence  on  the  signora  contessa's  part  in  his  own  zeal  and 
trustworthiness. 

Nobody  could  deny,  however,  that  Countess  Vitali  was  a 
devoted  nurse  who  spared  herself  neither  trouble  nor  fatigue. 
Professor  Sacchetti  himself  complimented  her  upon  the  way  in 
which  his  instructions  were  carried  out,  and  he  experienced  a 
genuine  satisfaction  when  he  felt  able  to  tell  her  that,  as  the  third 
day  had  now  passed  without  any  specially  disquieting  symptoms 
having  shown  themselves,  he  was  beginning  to  be  more  confident 
that  no  complications  would  arise.  Anxiety  had  indeed,  been 
apparent  on  Countess  Vitali's  face  ever  since  her  husband  had 
met  with  his  accident,  and  Doctor  Sacchetti  had  noticed  that,  as 
the  days  passed,  this  anxiety  certainly  did  not  seem  to  diminish. 
There  was  none  of  that  sudden  reaction  to  hopefulness  which  in 
most  cases  succeeds  a  grave  anxiety  which  circumstances  have 
tended  to  lighten.  The  professor,  therefore,  was  all  the  more 
pleased  that  the  moment  had  come  when  he  felt  justified  in 
speaking  words  which  should  relieve,  at  any  rate  to  a  certain 
extent.  Countess  Vitali's  mind. 

To  his  surprise  his  more  confident  manner  and  report  did  not 
have  the  effect  he  had  anticipated.  On  the  contrary,  Countess 
Vitali's  anxiety  seemed  rather  to  be  increased  than  otherwise  by 
his  cautious,  though  decidedly  encouraging  view  of  his  patient's 
case.  He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  contessa  must  be  a 
person  of  a  temperament  the  reverse  of  sanguine ;  and  he  reflected 
that,  after  all,  perhaps  such  temperaments  were  advantageous  to 


TEMPTATION  289 

their  possessors,  as  being  less  likely  to  plunge  them  into 
subsequent  disappointments. 

But  neither  Doctor  Sacchetti,  nor  anybody  else  at  Palazzo 
Vitali  could  guess  that  Cristina  was  in  very  truth  a  prey  to  an 
anxiety  which  was  as  poignant  as  it  was  ceaseless.  As  the  hours 
passed,  and  her  husband  showed  no  signs  of  becoming  radically 
worse,  this  anxiety  became  almost  intolerable.  She  was  thankful 
that  Fabrizio  had  gone.  He,  and  he  only,  might  have  suspected 
its  sources,  to  others  it  would  in  all  probability  appear  natural, 
legitimate,  if  somewhat  exaggerated. 

When  Doctor  Sacchetti  would  produce  his  thermometer  and 
carefully  take  his  patient's  temperature,  which  he  did  regularly  at 
his  morning  and  evening  visit,  it  was  with  difficulty  that  she  could 
compose  her  features  to  the  proper  expression  of  satisfaction  when 
the  encouraging  results  were  announced.  She  found  herself 
longing,  almost  praying  some  sudden  rise  which  should  send  the 
mercury  well  above  the  red  cypher  of  thirty-seven  marking  the 
normal  point  and  tell  of  the  presence  of  some  such  organic 
mischief  as  she  had  been  warned  might  declare  itself. 

And  as  the  hours  lengthened  into  days  and  yet  no  traces  of 
"  complications  " — that  mysterious  word  to  which  Doctor  Sacchetti 
was  for  ever  returning — showed  themselves,  Countess  Vitali's 
anxiety  racked  her  more  and  more. 

There  were  hours,  of  course,  when  it  was  possible  to  leave 
Ugo  alone.  Indeed,  the  doctor  was  particularly  anxious  that  he 
should  sleep  as  much  and  as  often  as  possible ;  and  to  this  end 
he  had  administered  the  injections  of  morphia  as  frequently  as  he 
had  deemed  advisable.  At  these  times  Cristina  would  seek  a 
refuge  in  the  gallery,  which  nobody  ever  entered  to  disturb  her 
solitude.  There  she  would  pace  restlessly  up  and  down,  seeking 
to  solve  the  problem  which  entirely  occupied  her  mind.  How 
nearly  her  longing,  that  longing  which  she  was  now  able  calmly 
to  admit  to  herself,  had  been  fulfilled,  how  simple  everything 
would  be  had  it  actually  been  so !  Ugo's  accident  might  so 
easily  have  been  fatal.  Nobody  would  have  been  to  blame  except 
himself  for  his  obstinacy  in  continuing  to  ride  a  vicious  horse. 
And  she  would  have  been  free,  free  to  live  out  her  life  with  a  man 

T 


290  TEMPTATION 

she  really  loved,  who  would  allow  her  to  live  that  life  as  she 
pleased. 

Fabrizio  had  sworn  that,  were  she  free,  he  would  marry  her, 
and  Cristina  knew  that  she  could  hold  him  to  his  word. 

That  afternoon — the  afternoon  on  which  the  doctor  had  for 
the  first  time  spoken  with  an  almost  assured  confidence  in  his 
patient's  speedy  recovery — she  had  fled  from  her  husband's  room 
lest  he  or  Taddeo  should  read  her  face,  and  had  gone  straight  to 
the  gallery  where  she  knew  she  would  be  undisturbed.  Every- 
thing, she  thought  to  herself,  was  going  right,  when  with  her 
whole  soul  she  was  longing  that  it  should  go  wrong.  Ugo's 
strength  and  robust  constitution  would  triumph.  There  would 
be  no  complications — every  hour  that  passed  made  it  less 
probable  that  any  would  supervene.  It  was  useless  to  be  anxious, 
useless  to  give  way  to  that  strange  sense  of  disappointment  from 
which  she  would  even  a  few  weeks  ago  have  shrunk  as  from  a 
thought  she  feared  to  put  into  words.  Fate  was  going  to  be  too 
strong  for  her. 

In  her  restless  walk  up  and  down  the  gallery  which  was 
partially  darkened  by  the  closed  persiennes  she  would  stop  now 
and  again  beneath  the  portrait  of  Donna  Giulia.  Sometimes, 
almost  unconsciously,  she  would  address  it.  It  seemed  to  be 
something  human  which  could  interpret  her  thoughts  and 
sympathise  with  the  terrible  anxiety  which  was  consuming  her. 

It  was  certainly  strange,  she  told  herself,  that  this  afternoon, 
when  anxiety  was  giving  way  to  a  bitter  certainty  that  Fate 
refused  to  help  her  to  freedom,  the  portrait  should  seem  to  be 
more  human — more  alive — than  it  had  ever  seemed  before.  It 
was  imagination,  of  course ;  but  Donna  Giulia's  eyes  appeared 
to  be  smiling  scornfully,  and  the  red  lips,  which  contrasted  so 
vividly  with  the  faded  flesh  tints  of  the  face,  seemed  to  sneer  at 
her  impotence  with  a  conscious  superiority  which  was  maddening. 

"You  can  afford  to  sneer,"  Cristina  exclaimed  suddenly,  as 
she  paused  and  looked  at  the  portrait.  "  Yes,  you  can  aff'ord  to 
sneer,  because  you  found  a  way.  I  can  find  none ! "  and  she 
did  not  know  that  she  spoke  the  words  aloud. 

All  at  once,  as  though   a  flash  had  illumined  the  innermost 


TEMPTATION  291 

recesses  of  her  brain,  it  seemed  to  Cristina  that  she  saw  rather 
than  heard  again  a  conversation  she  had  until  that  moment 
completely  forgotten  although  at  the  time  it  had  interested  her 
deeply.  It  was  a  strange  thing,  she  thought,  that  feeling  of 
seeing  spoken  words  standing  out  clear  and  distinct  before  the 
eye  instead  of  hearing  them — a  strange  inversion  of  the  senses. 
Nevertheless  she  saw  words— Fabrizio's  words.  They  ranged 
themselves  before  her  vision  as  though  traced  by  some  unseen 
hand.  La  morfina.  She  could  buy  it.  And  the  last  effects 
of  over  doses  of  morfina  so  closely  resembled  those  of  acute 
internal  cotnmozioni.  The  words  blazed  before  Countess  Vitali's 
eyes  and  burned  themselves  into  her  brain.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  not  only  did  she  see  them,  but  that  she  also  felt  them,  felt 
them  as  though  some  one  were  striking  her  with  them.  Only  she 
did  not  hear  them — had  no  sense  of  hearing  them,  although  they 
were  spoken  words — spoken  by  Fabrizio.  Wait !  she  must  think  ! 
Who  was  it  that  was  suffering  from  something — something  that 
the  morfina  could  allay,  but  most  of  the  symptoms  of  which  it 
could  also  produce  if  given  in  too  great  a  quantity?  And  what 
was  the  quantity  which  would  produce  such  a — complication  ? 

Figures  rose  up  before  Cristina's  eyes.  She  saw  them — 
falling  as  it  were  from  Fabrizio's  lips.  15.  Fifteen — what  ? 
Ah,  she  remembered !  fifteen  centigrammes,  of  course — fifteen 
centigrammes  of  the  morfina — that  drug  which  was  already  being 
administered  by  the  doctot^s  orders — by  the  doctor  himself! 

Cristina  started  and  turned  sharply  round.  Surely  somebody 
had  spoken  these  words  ? — this  time  she  had  heard  them  ringing 
in  her  ears — she  had  not  seen  them. 

Of  course  !  Here  was  her  opportunity.  A  moment  ago  she 
had  thought  that  Fate  was  to  be  stronger  than  she ;  now  she  felt 
that  she  held  Fate  in  her  own  hands.  But  she  must  think — think. 
There  was  yet  time— not  much,  perhaps,  but  still  some  few  days 
during  which  the  complications  Professor  Sacchetti  had  always 
considered  as  possible  might  arise  without  causing  any  undue 
suspicions.  If  they  did  arise,  what  could  the  doctor  say — what 
could  anybody  say,  except  that  the  internal  injuries  had  been 
more  severe  than  had  been  realised.     The  symptoms  would  be 


292  TEMPTATION 

the  same,  or  at  any  rate  they  would  be  so  similar  as  easily  to  be 
mistaken  for  those  of  some  sudden  complication.  There  would 
be  no  mitopsia.  It  would  not  be  necessary,  since  from  the  first  a 
doctor  of  Sacchetti's  reputation  had  managed  the  case.  And 
even  if  there  were  an  autopsia,  and  traces  of  morphia  were 
detected,  who  could  say  that  the  doctor  himself  had  not  made  a 
mistake  and  administered  the  injections  too  frequently. 

In  the  semi-darkness  and  silence  of  the  gallery  Cristina 
thought — and  thought.  It  was  extraordinary  how  clear  her 
mind  seemed  to  be — how  ideas  flowed  to  her  brain  which  had 
never  before  occurred  to  her.  Surely,  she  told  herself,  she  must 
have  been  very  foolish — very  dull — not  at  once  to  have  recollected 
that  conversation,  those  remarks  of  Fabrizio's  when  they  had  dis- 
cussed at  dinner  the  possible  means  employed  by  Donna  Giulia  of 
ridding  herself  of  her  lover !  When  the  doctor  had  mentioned 
morphia  as  being  part  of  his  treatment,  how  came  it  that  she  had 
not  remembered  ? 

Yes,  but  Professor  Sacchetti  had  kept  the  injections  rigidly 
in  his  own  hands,  and  how  could  she,  Cristina,  supplement 
their  number?  She  did  not  even  know  how  to  use  the  little 
apparatus  which  she  had  seen  Sacchetti  take  from  his  pocket. 
Besides  the  needle  left  a  tiny  scar  where  it  penetrated  the  flesh, 
and  those  scars  might  afterwards  be  observed,  and  counted. 

Ah,  how  dull  she  was  still !  Of  course — she  could  supplement 
the  doses  of  morfina  to  any  extent ;  not  by  injection,  but  by 
the  mouth.  It  should  not  be  difficult  to  introduce  it  repeatedly 
into  the  food  or  the  drink  sent  up  to  the  sick  room.  How  simple 
it  all  was,  and  certainly  her  wits  had  been  dull  until  this  after- 
noon. The  extra  doses  she  might  administer  would  produce 
symptoms  which  Sacchetti  would  imagine  to  be  caused  by  some 
slight  relapse,  some  unexpected  disturbance  of  the  shaken  and 
bruised  organs ;  and  he  would  endeavour  to  quiet  these  symptoms 
by  further  injections,  thus  increasing  the  quantity  indefinitely. 
She  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  buy  a  few  of  the  hypodermic 
syringes  and  their  accompanying  phials.  The  syringes  she 
could  destroy,  and  the  contents  of  the  phials  she  could  use 
at  her  discretion — as  opportunity  offered.     What  had  Fabrizio 


TEMPTATION  293 

said?  that  the  action  of  morfina  was  cumulative.  She  could 
remember  smiling  at  the  solemnity  of  his  manner  as  he  made 
the  remark.  Well,  if  it  was  cumulative,  so  much  the  better. 
The  effect  would  be  more  natural,  more  in  accordance  with  what 
the  effects  of  some  sudden  complications  might  be  expected  to 
be.  Of  course !  She  would  buy  the  apparatus — one  here, 
another  there.  Chemists  were  not  wanting  in  Viterbo.  More- 
over, who  could  say  that  she  had  not  bought  it  for  her  own  use. 
For  her  own  use  ?  of  course  it  was  for  her  own  use  ! 

And,  as  she  said  the  words  to  herself,  Cristina  heard  a  sudden 
laugh.  Perhaps  it  was  she  who  had  laughed — of  course  it  must 
have  been  she  !  Was  she  not  alone  in  the  gallery  ?  Only,  it  had 
not  sounded  like  her  own  laugh — it  was  low,  and  malicious ;  the 
kind  of  laughter  that  might  have  issued  from  Donna  Giulia's 
sneering  lips  which  smiled  at  her  from  the  canvas  above  the  spot 
where  she  was  standing. 

It  was  wonderful  how  calm  she  felt  now.  That  wearing  anxiety 
had  gone.  A  little  courage,  a  little  resolution,  and  she  would  be 
free.  And  in  securing  freedom  she  would  secure  to  the  man 
she  loved,  and  who  loved  her,  the  lands  and  the  money  he  would 
know  so  much  better  how  to  enjoy  than  did  his  cousin — the 
campagmiolo. 

Thinking  always,  Cristina  left  the  gallery,  and  as  she  did  so 
the  eyes  of  Donna  Giulia's  portrait  seemed  to  her  to  follow  her 
steps;  for,  turning  once  again  to  look  at  the  picture,  she  en- 
countered their  malicious,  mocking  smile. 

Cristina  Vitali  smiled  back  at  it. 

"  Grazie,  Donna  Giulia,  grazie  ! "  she  said.  "  At  last  you  have 
shown  me  the  way." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

'T^HE  accounts  received  by  Fabrizio  Vitali  of  his  cousin's 
■*-  condition  were  such  as  to  leave  little  doubt  in  his  mind 
that  Ugo  would  soon  recover  from  the  effects  of  his  accident. 
He  heard  from  Cristina  daily,  and  each  letter  dwelt  upon  the 
fact  that,  as  yet,  none  of  the  complications  feared  by  Professor 
Sacchetti  had  shown  any  signs  of  manifesting  themselves. 
Countess  Vitali  gave  her  information  without  comments ;  and  it 
would  have  been  impossible  to  tell  from  the  tone  of  her  letters 
whether  or  not  she  was  satisfied  with  the  course  events  were 
evidently  taking.  This  attitude  on  Cristina's  part  was  not,  as 
Fabrizio  told  himself,  surprising ;  and  it  was  at  any  rate,  honest. 
Under  the  circumstances,  any  pretence  to  a  feehng  of  thankful- 
ness that  things  were  not  worse  would  have  been  merely  useless 
hypocrisy,  and  Fabrizio  was  glad  to  think  that  Cristina  did  not 
consider  it  worth  her  while  to  make  any  attempt  to  deceive  him 
on  the  subject. 

It  was  evident  that  she  was  doing  her  duty  by  Ugo,  as  she  had 
declared  that  she  would  do.  She  told  Fabrizio  in  the  letter  he 
had  last  received  from  her  how  she  had  rarely  left  her  husband's 
room  during  the  first  two  days,  and  that  it  was  only  owing  to  the 
fact  of  the  third  day  having  now  passed  without  any  untoward 
symptoms  declaring  themselves  that  she  had  allowed  herself 
a  little  more  freedom. 

Fabrizio  Vitali  assured  himself  repeatedly  that  he  was  glad  Ugo 
v,as  going  to  recover  from  his  accident ;  and,  in  a  sense,  thes.e 
assurances  were  genuine.  He  had  never  wished  any  harm  to 
befall  Ugo,  even  when  he  had  known  him  far  less  intimately  than 
he  did  at  present. 

It  was  a  curious  thing,  and  one  for  which  he  hardly  cared  to 

attempt  an  explanation,  but  since  his  return  to   Rome  he  had 

become  conscious  of  a  certain   change  in   his  ideas,  or  rather, 
294 


TEMPTATION  295 

perhaps,  in  his  state  of  mind.  The  change  was  slight,  and  subtle  ; 
but  he  felt  it  was  there,  and  its  presence  caused  him  a  vague 
uneasiness.  Oddly  enough,  he  knew  that  he  had  first  perceived 
its  presence  at  the  moment  when,  as  he  and  Cristina  had  been 
returning  from  their  morning  walk  in  the  gardens,  the  porter  had 
hurried  towards  them  to  acquaint  them  with  the  news  of  Ugo's 
accident. 

It  was  not  that  the  intelligence  had  shocked  him  so  much,  as 
that  it  seemed  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  to  cast  a  new  light  on 
his  own  position,  a  light  which  showed  this  position  in  a  different 
colour  from  that  through  which  he  had  become  accustomed  to 
view  it.  From  this  position  there  was  now  no  drawing  back. 
He  had  returned  to  Palazzo  Vitali  as  he  had  promised  and  in- 
tended to  do ;  and  within  four  and  twenty  hours  of  his  return  he 
had  obtained  from  Cristina  all  that  she  had  promised  to  give  him. 
And  now,  should  anything  happen  to  Ugo — anything  that  would 
make  Cristina  a  free  woman — he  would  be  bound  in  honour  to 
keep  the  oath  he  had  made  to  her.  It  was  not  that,  having 
obtained  his  desire,  his  passion  for  his  cousin's  wife  was  satiated, 
for  it  was,  indeed,  only  whetted.  But  Cristina  as  a  mistress  was 
one  thing,  whereas  Cristina  as  a  wife  was  an  eventuality  which, 
as  he  now  was  beginning  to  realise,  had  seemed  so  remote  as 
hardly  to  be  regarded  as  coming  within  the  range  of  possibility. 

As  Fabrizio  had  often  argued  to  himself,  Ugo  could  have  no 
logical  ground  for  complaint  if  his  wife,  knowing  that  he  went 
his  own  way,  chose  to  go  hers.  It  was  absurd  to  be  scrupulous 
as  to  deceiving  a  man  who  had  married  his  wife  merely  in  order 
to  enable  him  to  carry  on  more  easily  an  intrigue  of  long  stand- 
ing which  he  had  never  intended  should  be  interrupted.  Sooner 
or  later,  Cristina  would  certainly  console  herself  for  her  wrongs 
by  taking  a  lover  of  her  own  ;  and,  apart  from  the  accident  of  his 
being  Ugo's  kinsman,  there  was  no  reason  why  that  lover  should 
not  be  himself,  Fabrizio,  while  even  this  last  objection  was,  after 
all,  purely  a  sentimental  one. 

The  mishap  which  had  befallen  Ugo,  however,  had  instantly 
brought  a  remote  and  extremely  improbable  contingency  within 
the  bounds  of  possibility,  and  for  some  reason  which  Fabrizio 


296  TEMPTATION 

Vitali  could  not  explain,  he  had  felt  a  sudden  aversion  from  the 
thought  that  he  might  be  called  upon  to  redeem  his  promise  to 
Cristina — a  promise  which,  in  the  heat  of  his  passion,  he  had 
given  the  more  readily  on  account  of  the  unlikelihood  of  his  ever 
being  able  to  put  it  into  execution. 

It  was  with  genuine  satisfaction,  therefore,  and  perhaps  with 
positive  relief,  that  Fabrizio  learned  from  Countess  Vitali's  letters 
of  Ugo's  probable  recovery,  and  that  there  was  nothing  as  yet  to 
warrant  the  fear  lest  he  had  received  any  organic  injury.  It  was 
true  that  Cristina  invariably  reverted  in  these  letters  to  Professor 
Sacchetti's  obstinacy  in  asserting  that  until  further  time  had 
elapsed  it  was  impossible  altogether  to  exclude  the  possibiHty  of 
complications  of  a  serious  nature  declaring  themselves.  Appar- 
ently, however,  Cristina  herself  believed  that  the  professor  was 
over-cautious  ;  and  in  her  last  letter  she  had  reminded  Fabrizio 
that  doctors  were  not  always  above  pretending  to  regard  a  case 
as  more  sericu3  than  it  really  was,  in  order  to  gain  additional 
honour  and  glory  when  the  patient  made  a  good  recovery  under 
their  treatment.  There  were  no  more  allusions  to  the  changes 
which  any  fatal  results  of  Ugo's  accident  would  make  in  Fabrizio's 
prospects,  and  of  this  Fabrizio  was  honestly  glad.  He  did  not 
wish  to  allow  his  mind  to  dwell  on  the  advantages  he  would  derive 
from  Ugo's  death.  It  would  be  absurd,  he  told  himself,  to 
pretend  that  he  could  afford  to  ignore  these  advantages,  or  that 
he  would  find  any  fault  with  fate  for  placing  him  in  his  cousin's 
shoes.  But  he  felt  a  glow  of  self-commendation  at  the  thought 
that  he  was  far  from  definitely  wishing  for  his  cousin's  death  in 
order  that  his  cousin's  goods  might  become  his  own;  but  a 
portion  of  which  Ugo  himself  had  certainly  regarded  in  the  light 
of  a  neghgible  quantity.  All  things  considered,  Fabrizio  found 
himself  rapidly  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  he  would  be  quite 
satisfied  with  the  share  he  had  already  secured  in  this  portion, 
and  that  a  more  legal  ownership  might  in  the  future  prove  em- 
barrassing. If  Ugo  recovered,  there  was  no  reason  why  things 
should  not  remain  as  they  were.  Cristina  and  he,  Fabrizio,  would 
have  ample  opportunities  of  meeting,  and  of  being  together. 
Moreover,   Fabrizio  told  himself  that  he  knew  his  world.     By 


TEMPTATION  297 

degrees  the  relations  between  himself  and  his  cousin's  wife  would 
become  an  accepted  thing — an  incident  to  which  nobody  would 
take  any  exception.  Did  he  not  know  of  scores  of  similar  cases 
among  his  acquaintances — and  among  many  who  were  not  his 
acquaintances  ?  In  Rome,  the  ami  de  la  maison  was  almost  an 
institution.  The  amie  lived  elsewhere.  It  was  a  mere  question 
of  accustoming  people  to  the  idea ;  and,  once  the  idea  was 
established,  nobody  took  the  trouble  to  be  scandalised.  Even 
Ugo,  like  many  other  husbands,  would  in  time  find  it  more 
convenient  tacitly  to  accept  the  situation,  indeed  he  had  every 
reason  to  induce  him  to  do  so.  Of  course  Ugo  would  not  accept 
it  now ;  but  Rome  would  enlarge  his  ideas,  and  teach  him  what 
life  really  was  and  how  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

Fabrizio  was  glad  that  he  had  remained  firm  in  his  decision  to 
return  immediately  to  Rome.  To  have  stayed  on  at  Palazzo 
Vitali  under  the  circumstances  would  have  propably  resulted  in 
arousing  the  suspicions  not  only  of  Ugo's  neighbours,  but  also 
those  of  the  household  and,  finally,  of  Ugo  himself. 

Rome,  however,  was  certainly  not  agreeable  in  the  month  of 
September.  The  city  was  deserted ;  the  theatres  were  for  the 
most  part  closed,  and  life  might  be  said  to  be  at  a  standstill. 
Even  the  priests  were  less  en  evidence,  and  the  "  beetles " 
(baggarozzt)  as  the  Romans  contemptuously  term  the  gangs 
of  students  belonging  to  the  various  ecclesiastical  colleges,  no 
longer  swarmed  on  the  Pincio  or  in  the  Villa  Borghese,  but  were 
still  passing  the  summer  vacation  in  the  villas  among  the  Alban 
Hills,  which  an  impoverished  nobility  had  been  obliged  to  sell. 
The  absence  of  the  '■^  baggarozzi"  however,  was  perhaps  the 
one  advantage  accruing  to  the  capital  during  the  dead  season. 
The  spirit  of  civilisation  was  no  longer  offended  by  the  sorry 
spectacle  of  bands  of  able-bodied  young  men  with  weak 
countenances,  whose  future  energies  were  to  be  devoted  to 
hindering  rather  than  assisting  the  intellectual  progress  of 
humanity. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  city  was  heavy  and  lifeless,  for  the 
first  rains  of  autumn  had  not  yet  come  to  dispel  the  sirocco 
which  blows  so  frequently  in  September.     The  Embassies  were 


298  TEMPTATION 

practically  closed,  for  the  chiefs  of  missions  were  disporting  them- 
selves on  the  other  side  of  the  Alps,  and  even  the  secretaries  and 
attaches  were  for  the  most  part  in  villeggiatura  at  Vallombrosa 
and  Camaldoli.  The  Court  was  in  Piemonte ;  and  the  ParUa- 
ment,  which  in  Italy  never  sits  when  the  ministers  can  find 
any  excuse  for  it  not  to  do  so,  would  not  reassemble  till  the 
winter,  when  it  would  probably  be  again  despatched  for  a  hoHday 
on  the  first  available  opportunity. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  temporary  drawbacks,  however, 
Fabrizio  was  able  to  make  himself  fairly  happy  in  Rome.  He 
looked  forward  to  the  coming  winter,  when  Cristina  would  be 
installed  in  some  apartment  which  Ugo  would  rent  for  the  season 
— for,  of  course,  by  that  time  Ugo  would  have  quite  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  his  accident.  Things  would  go  smoothly 
enough  then — and,  as  he  had  always  told  Cristina,  at  Rome  he 
and  she  would  have  ample  opportunities  for  enjoying  "  il  commodo 
loro"  without  being  perpetually  exposed  to  the  eyes  of  the 
curious  as  they  would  be  at  Viterbo.  Ugo  would,  of  course, 
hunt  two  days  a  week,  and  be  perpetually  returning  to  Palazzo 
Vitali  to  look  after  his  affairs.  In  the  meantime  Cristina  and 
he,  Fabrizio,  would  be  free  to  lead  their  own  lives,  and  they 
would  be  able  to  make  use  of  their  freedom  as  many  other 
people  placed  in  the  same  circumstances  made  use  of  it. 

But  Fabrizio's  anticipations  were  destined  not  to  be  realised. 
Two  days  had  elapsed  since  he  had  last  received  a  letter  from 
Countess  Vitali — that  letter  which  had  confirmed  his  belief  that 
Ugo  in  a  short  time  would  be  perfectly  well  again.  On  his 
return  home  late  in  the  evening  he  found  a  telegram  lying  on  his 
table.  It  was  from  Cristina,  and  was  laconic  enough.  Ugo,  she 
telegraphed,  was  suffering  from  a  severe  and  unexpected  relapse, 
and  she  was  writing.  The  news  came  to  Fabrizio  as  a  shock. 
Sacchetti,  then,  had  been  right  to  be  so  cautious  in  his  opmion  as 
to  the  real  nature  of  the  case.  Probably  the  professor  had  from 
the  first  suspected  the  presence  of  some  internal  mischief — 
some  lesion,  as  he  had  termed  it,  which  no  doubt  had  set  up 
inflammation. 

Poor  Ugo  !  it  was  terrible  to  think  of  him  with  his  life  thus 


TEMPTATION  299 

suddenly  endangered.  Cristina  used  the  word  gravissimo  in  her 
telegram,  and  that  could  mean  nothing  less  than  imminent 
danger. 

Fabrizio  read  and  re-read  the  short  telegram,  and  then  hurried 
off  to  the  central  office  at  San  Silvestro  to  reply  to  it.  He 
reproached  himself  now  for  having  talked  and  thought  so  lightly 
of  his  and  Cristina's  coming  freedom.  But  he  had  never  calcu- 
lated upon  that  freedom  being  so  complete  as  now  seemed  to  be 
probable.  Stato  gravissimo  !  there  was  no  mistaking  the  meaning 
such  a  phrase  must  be  intended  to  convey.  And  Cristina— would 
she,  could  she,  care  at  all  ?  That  was  a  terrible  thought,  which  made 
Fabrizio  feel  as  though  in  some  way  he  would  be  guilty — were 
Ugo  really  to  die.  He  knew  that  Cristina  would  not  care — that 
she  would  probably  make  no  pretence  of  caring,  at  any  rate  to 
him.    How  could  she  do  so,  after  all  that  had  passed  between  them  ? 

Yes,  Cristina  would  be  free,  and,  at  the  conclusion  of  a  decent 
period  during  which  a  simulance  of  mourning  would  have  to  be 
observed,  she  would  expect  him  to  fulfil  his  promise  and  marry 
her.  Somehow  or  other  the  thought,  once  so  attractive,  now 
filled  Fabrizio  with  a  strange  misgiving.  Moments  when  he  had 
been  vaguely  conscious  of  a  sudden  feeling  of  repulsion — a  feeling 
that  had  passed  as  quickly  as  it  had  come — now  returned  to  his 
memory  and  refused  to  leave  it.  After  all,  what  did  he  know  of 
Cristina — herself?  The  outer  Cristina — her  beauty,  her  charm 
of  manner  when  she  chose  to  exert  it,  her  aptitude  to  talk  on 
subjects  with  which  it  might  have  been  supposed  that  she  could 
have  little  acquaintance — all  these  things  he  knew,  and  they  had 
fascinated  him  and  made  him  love  her.  But  of  her  real  self,  what 
did  he  know?  He  remembered  now  how  often  he  had  been 
puzzled  by  the  sudden  furtive,  suspicious  glance  which  he  had 
noticed  flash  from  her  eyes — that  look  which  recalled  the  low- 
browed Ciociara  models  when  under  the  influences  of  anger  or 
jealousy.  It  was  attractive — that  look — if  only  on  account  of  the 
half-revealed  passions  which  lay  behind  it — but  it  was  a  look  one 
would  prefer  to  see  on  the  face  of  one's  mistress,  from  whom  one 
could  escape,  than  on  that  of  one's  wife  from  whom  escape  was 
not  so  easy  a  matter. 


300  TEMPTATION 

Nevertheless,  Cristina  was  a  beautiful  woman — a  woman  in  a 
thousand.  It  might  be  that  he  did  not  yet  know  the  real  Cristina, 
but  that  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not  learn  to  know  her.  It 
might  be  that  the  disappointment  of  her  life  with  Ugo — the 
discovery  that  she  had  been  married,  not  for  herself,  but  to  en- 
able another  woman  to  retain  her  hold  over  Ugo,  had  embittered 
her,  and  that  this  accounted  for  the  indefinable  things  in  her 
which  had  repelled  even  while  they  had  attracted  him  by  their 
mysteriousness. 

Fabrizio  sent  his  telegram,  and  as  he  wrote  it  out  the  conven- 
tionality of  the  language  struck  him  disagreeably.  He  longed  to 
make  it  clear  to  Cristina  that  he  was  genuinely  shocked,  genuinely 
sorry — but  how  could  he  expect  it  to  be  believed  ?  And  yet  he 
knew  that  he  was  both  the  one  and  the  other.  He  told  himself 
that,  had  he  been  able  to  foresee  Ugo's  accident,  and  still  more 
had  he  been  able  to  foresee  its  all  too  probable  results,  he  would 
not  have  yielded  to  his  passion  when  he  had.  There  would  have 
been  time  enough — afterwards ;  and  he  would  not  now  have  to 
endure  the  remorse  of  the  feeling  that  he  had  wronged  his  kins- 
man who  had  trusted  him,  and  who  now  lay,  perhaps,  a  dying  man. 

He  returned  from  San  Silvestro  to  the  apartment  he  and  his 
mother  occupied  in  the  Via  Veneto.  The  Signora  Vitah  was 
still  at  Montecatini,  and  he  was  alone.  There  was  nothing  to  do 
but  sit  and  wait  for  further  news  from  Viterbo.  The  letter  alluded 
to  in  Cristina's  telegram  would  probably  reach  him  by  the  first 
post  in  the  morning,  and  until  then  it  was  not  likely  that  he 
would  hear  more  particulars.  He  tried  to  distract  his  thoughts 
by  reading,  but  his  books  were  soon  laid  aside.  He  felt  as  a  man 
may  feel  when  conscious  of  a  presentiment  of  a  great  change 
about  to  take  place  in  his  life.  To  some,  such  changes  come 
suddenly,  unexpectedly,  perhaps  wrenching  happiness  and  the 
joy  of  living  out  of  the  heart,  and  causing  life  never  again  to  be 
all  that  it  was  before ;  while  to  others  some  warning  is  vouchsafed. 

To-night  Fabrizio  was  a  prey  to  an  uneasiness  which,  do  what 
he  could,  refused  to  leave  him.  He  tried  to  think  of  what  he 
would  do  were  Ugo  really  to  die  and  were  he  to  succeed  to  his 
inheritance.     In  former  days  he  had  often  allowed  his  mind  to 


TEMPTATION  301 

dwell  upon  this  theme,  and  he  had  been  wont  to  build  many 
castles  in  the  air  in  connection  with  it.  To-night,  however,  the 
material  change  in  his  prospects,  which  Cristina's  telegram  had 
brought  within  the  range  of  actuality,  seemed  to  concern  him  only 
in  a  secondary  degree.  He  felt  that  some  other  change — some- 
thing that  threatened  the  immaterial  part  of  him — was  about  to 
envelop  him,  and  he  shrank  from  it. 

The  night  was  close  and  airless ;  and,  after  vainly  endeavour- 
ing to  turn  the  channel  of  his  thoughts  by  reading,  Fabrizio  de- 
termined to  go  out  again  into  the  streets.  It  would  be  a  relief 
to  find  himself  among  such  movement  as  might  be  going  on  at  a 
late  hour  of  a  September  evening.  He  sought  the  quarter  of  the 
city  which  would  be  most  thronged,  wending  his  way  down  the 
Via  Nazionale  and  so  along  the  Corso  to  Piazza  Colonna.  The 
Caffe  Aragno  was  crowded  with  men  of  business,  journalists  and 
others  whose  daily  occupations  kept  them  in  Rome  even  at  that 
season.  Fabrizio  entered  the  brilliantly  lighted  sala  and,  ordering 
a  cup  of  black  coffee,  sat  down  at  a  vacant  table.  A  few  people 
passing  in  and  out  nodded  to  him,  and  one  or  two  came  up  and 
talked  to  him  as  he  sipped  his  coffee.  The  distraction  of  mind 
which  he  sought,  however,  would  not  come  to  him,  and  after  a 
short  time  the  noise  and  movement  in  the  place  began  to  have  an 
irritating  effect  on  his  nerves.  He  left  the  caffe,  and  passed  out 
into  the  Corso  where  groups  of  people  were  walking  up  and  down 
or  reading  the  evening  papers  under  the  electric  lamps.  The 
various  clocks  were  striking  eleven,  and  there  seemed  to  Fabrizio 
nothing  better  to  be  done  than  to  retrace  his  steps  to  the  Via 
Veneto.  On  reaching  his  apartment  he  found  that  no  further 
telegram  had  arrived  from  Viterbo,  and  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  to  wait  for  the  news  the  morning  would  certainly  bring. 

Taking  a  book  with  him,  he  went  to  his  bedroom,  determined 
to  read  himself  to  sleep.  But  sleep  was  long  in  coming.  Always 
the  vague  sense  of  some  impending  evil  was  with  him  and  by  no 
effort  of  the  will  could  he  free  himself  from  it.  His  mind  travelled 
to  Palazzo  Vitah,  and  in  his  imagination  he  assisted  at  the  scene 
in  Ugo's  sick  room.  Perhaps,  he  thought,  Cristina,  now  that  Ugo 
was  really  in  danger,  would  be  distressed.     It  would  be  terrible 


302  TEMPTATION 

for  her  to  have  to  feign  an  anxiety  and  a  sorrow  which  she  did 
not  feel.  He  had  told  her  that  she  was  hard;  and  she  had 
replied  that  she  was  just — that  it  was  the  San  Felice,  and  not  she, 
who  had  either  the  reason  or  the  right  to  grieve.  Yes — but 
Cristina  had  said  that  when  Ugo's  life  was  not  actually  in  danger. 
But  now — with  the  presence  of  death  perhaps  so  near  at  hand — 
she  would  not  continue  to  be  hard.  No  doubt  Ugo  had  wronged 
her — wronged  her  cruelly  and  systematically — but,  surely,  where 
death  entered  all  wrongs  were  forgiven.  But  it  was  unconceivable 
that  death  should  enter !  Sacchetti  would  summon  some  famous 
doctor  from  Rome,  and  there  would  be  a  consultation — probably 
an  operation — and  Ugo's  life  would  be  saved. 

It  was  a  strange  thing,  Fabrizio  thought,  that  he  should  be  so 
feverishly  anxious  that  Ugo  should  not  die.  He  had  everything 
to  gain  by  Ugo's  death,  from  the  point  of  view  of  worldly  gain. 
Nevertheless,  he  experienced  a  feeling  which  was  little  short  of 
horror — which  was  horror — at  the  prospect  of  his  cousin's  death. 
In  some  unaccountable  way  he  felt  that  this  death,  far  from  bene- 
fiting him,  was  a  menace  of  evil,  a  danger  which,  were  he  only 
able  to  do  so,  he  would  ward  off  a.t  any  cost  to  himself  and  to  his 
future.  The  knowledge  that  he  was  utterly  impotent  to  alter  the 
course  of  events  by  a  hair's  breadth  increased  a  hundredfold  that 
strange  sense  of  fear  which  oppressed  him.  If  he  could  only 
realise  what  it  was  he  feared ;  if  he  could  only  define  the  indefin- 
able, and  understand  why  it  should  be  that  an  eventuality  which 
he  had  so  often  contemplated  with  perfect  equanimity  should 
now,  when  he  was  brought  face  to  face  with  it,  fill  him  with  an 
inexplicable  sense  of  aversion  and  a  haunting  fear  of  some  un- 
known evil  which  its  actual  occurrence  would  bring  upon  him  ! 

Sleep  was  long  in  coming  to  Fabrizio  that  night,  but  it  came  at 
last.  How  long  he  had  slept  he  did  not  know,  but  he  knew  that 
he  woke  with  a  cry  of  horror  on  his  lips  which  seemed  to  him  as 
if  it  must  surely  have  rung  through  the  house.  For  a  moment  or 
two  he  looked  round  his  room,  into  which  the  morning  light  was 
now  penetrating,  bewildered  and  unable  to  collect  his  thoughts. 
Surely,  he  said  to  himself,  he  had  been  but  a  few  minutes  before 
in  another  room,  Donna  Giulia's  room  at  Palazzo  Vitali  ?     And 


TEMPTATION  303 

then  memory  returned  to  him,  with  that  slow,  cruel  ruthlessness 
with  which  it  returns  to  those  who  wake  again  to  the  trouble  that 
for  a  few  short  hours  sleep  has  dulled.  Gradually  he  knew  that 
he  had  dreamed  again  the  dream  which  had  come  to  him  on  the 
first  night  he  had  passed  in  Palazzo  Vitali.  Again  in  his  sleep, 
Donna  Giulia  had  bent  over  him,  and  had  told  him  that  Ugo 
was  dead,  and  that  he,  Fabrizio,  had  killed  him.  And  then  it 
was  no  longer  Donna  Giulia  who  bent  over  him,  but  Cristina 
who  embraced  him  and  held  her  lips  to  his  to  be  kissed.  Ugo 
was  dead,  she  had  whispered  to  him,  and  she  was  free,  free  to 
become  his  wife.  And  then  she  had  laughed,  and  Fabrizio  had 
recognised  the  laugh.  It  was  some  time  since  he  had  heard  it, 
and  he  hoped  that  it  had  passed  out  of  his  life  for  ever.  But 
now  it  had  rung  again  in  his  ears,  and  it  had  grown  louder  and 
louder,  so  that  do  what  he  would  he  could  not  shut  out  its  sound. 
Then,  as  he  was  struggling  to  free  himself  from  the  arms  that  held 
him,  Cristina's  arms,  something  had  happened,  and  the  laughter, 
that  terrible  laughter  died  away  into  silence.  Ah — he  remem- 
bered now !  the  crucifix  had  fallen,  and  in  his  agony  he  had 
grasped  it,  and  as  he  grasped  it  his  dream  had  passed. 

Ah,  but  it  had  not  passed !  He  could  still  hear  the  echo  of 
that  laugh.  It  had  come  back  to  him  again,  and  if  he  were  to 
hear  it  perpetually  at  his  side  as  he  had  heard  it  at  Palazzo  Vitali 
he  would  go  mad — mad  ! 

That  was  absurd — childish.  He  would  not  go  mad,  had  he  not 
his  Will,  that  Human  Will  which  controlled  life,  which  was  life  ? 
His  glance  fell  on  the  volume  of  Schopenhauer  from  which  he 
had  forced  himself  to  read  while  waiting  for  sleep  to  come  to 
him.  Of  course!  what  could  be  more  natural  in  the  excited 
state  of  his  mind  than  that  he  should  have  dreamed  again  the 
dream  which  had  impressed  itself  so  vividly  only  a  few  weeks 
ago — so  vividly  that  he  had  imagined  he  had  again  heard  the 
laugh  which  accompanied  it?  He  was  not  well  yet,  and  the 
events  of  the  last  few  days  had  made  him  nervous — as  nervous  as 
he  had  been  when  he  first  went  to  Palazzo  VitaH. 

Fabrizio  rose,  and  threw  open  the  windows  of  his  room.  The 
weather  had  changed  during  the  night,  and,  instead  of  the  sultry 


304  TEMPTATION 

sirocco,  a  faint  tramontana  breeze,  light  and  exhilarating,  had 
cleared  the  sky  of  its  leaden  clouds  and  the  sun  was  shining. 
Looking  at  his  watch  he  found  it  was  already  seven  o'clock. 
From  the  streets  came  the  sounds  of  life.  Newspapers  were 
being  cried  ;  hawkers  were  shouting  their  wares ;  and  in  the 
distance  he  could  hear  the  strains  of  a  military  band  as  a  regiment 
marched  on  its  way  from  the  Castro  Pretorio  to  take  part  in  some 
morning  manoeuvres  outside  one  of  the  gates  of  the  city. 

The  fresh  air  and  the  sunshine  restored  Fabrizio  to  a  calmer 
condition  of  mind.  He  determined  to  dress ;  and,  ringing  his 
bell,  told  the  servant  to  bring  him  hot  water,  and  a  cup  of  black 
coffee.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  passed  before  the  man  returned, 
placing  a  tray  with  the  coffee  beside  Fabrizio,  A  telegram  lay 
on  the  tray ;  it  had  just  arrived,  the  servant  said,  sent  in  from  the 
central  office  as  the  hour  was  yet  early. 

Fabrizio  tore  it  open.     It  was  signed  by  Taddeo. 
The  signor  contc  died  at  half-past  four  this  morning.       Your 
presence  is  necessary.     Taddeo  Fasquali — maggior-dojno — Palazzo 
Vitali. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

A  CCORDING  to  immemorial  custom  in  Italy  when  death 
-^^  occurs  in  the  family  owning  a  palace,  the  great  gates  of 
Palazzo  Vitali  were  shut.  Only  from  this  sign  could  a  passer- 
by have  known  that  mourning  had  visited  the  house.  The 
windows  of  the  facade  facing  the  narrow  street  were  open  as 
usual,  but  groups  of  Viterbesi,  talking  to  each  other  in  low, 
eager  tones,  stood  in  the  roadway  and  gazed  at  the  closed 
portone.  The  news  of  Count  Vitali's  death  had  fallen  as  an 
unexpected  blow  on  the  quiet,  provincial  city.  The  circumstances 
of  the  accident  which  had  befallen  him  a  few  days  previously 
had  been,  of  course,  known  to  all ;  but  it  was  known,  also,  that 
Professor  Sacchetti  was  managing  the  case,  and  that  the  professor 
of  whom  Viterbo  was  proud  had  only  three  days  since  declared 
his  belief  in  his  patient's  speedy  recovery  from  a  mishap  which 
might  easily  have  had  fatal  consequences.  It  had  been  rumoured 
that,  during  the  last  two  days,  Count  Vitali's  condition  had  not 
been  entirely  satisfactory  ;  and  those  who  had  happened  to  meet 
Professor  Sacchetti  in  the  streets  had  noticed  that  he  looked 
unusually  grave  for  a  man  who  was  naturally  of  a  lively  and 
cheerful  disposition.  Nobody,  however,  had  anticipated  the 
news  which  had  startled  and  shocked  Viterbo  in  the  early  hours 
of  that  morning,  and  the  first  instinct  of  the  towns-people  was  to 
hurry  to  Palazzo  Vitali  and  see  for  themselves  whether  it  could 
be  true  that  the  portone  was  closed.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
about  the  fact.  The  great,  wooden  gates,  heavily  studded  with 
rusty  iron  bolts,  were  hermetically  shut,  and  only  the  little  wicket 
door  in  their  centre  stood  a  few  inches  ajar,  disclosing  to  the 
curious  a  glimpse  of  the  grim  courtyard  within,  deserted  save  for 
the  well-known  figure  of  the  porter  who,  mace  in  hand,  was 
apparently  awaiting  some  expected  arrival.  It  was  evident  that 
the  people  in  the  street  were  also  watching  for  something  of  the 


306  TEMPTATION 

kind,  for  when  they  were  not  gazing  at  the  ^orfone  their  glances 
turned  towards  that  end  of  the  street  which  joined  a  more 
important  thoroughfare  eventually  communicating  with  the 
railway   station. 

It  was  by  this  time  nearly  midday,  and  the  train  from  Rome 
should  have  already  crawled  into  Viterbo,  were  it  not  for  the 
fact  that  neither  it  nor  any  other  train  was  ever  known  to  arrive 
or  depart  in  orario.  As  it  was,  the  great  bells  of  the  cathedral 
were  already  booming  out  "  mezzo-giorno,"  and  were  being 
answered  by  the  bells  of  the  other  churches  in  the  city,  when  a 
rattle  of  carriage  wheels  on  the  rough  paving  stones  Caused  a 
corresponding  buzz  of  excitement  among  those  whose  curiosity 
was  greater  than  their  desire  to  return  home  for  their  midday 
meal. 

"  Eccolo !  eccolo ! "  went  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  those 
furthest  away  from  Palazzo  Vitali  began  to  hasten  toward  the 
portone  as  a  closed  carriage  dashed  round  the  corner  and  drove 
rapidly  up  to  it,  without,  however,  awaiting  for  the  gates  to  be 
thrown  back  to  allow  of  its  entrance  into  the  courtyard. 

"  Eccolo — e  proprio  lui ! "  murmured  the  little  crowd  of  on- 
lookers ;  and  then  there  was  a  dead  silence,  broken  suddenly  by 
one  or  two  low  hisses  and  an  ugly  word.  One  half  of  the 
portone  swung  open  as  the  carriage  pulled  up  in  front  of  it,  and 
the  porter  hastily  opened  the  carriage  door.  Possibly  his  ear 
had  caught  the  hisses,  or  \}ciejergo  expression  which  accompanied 
them,  for  he  closed  the  great  gate  again  with  a  crash  that  rever- 
berated through  the  courtyard  as  soon  as  Fabrizio  Vitali,  the 
occupant  of  the  carriage,  had  crossed  the  threshold. 

The  telegram  announcing  Ugo's  death  not  having  reached  him 
till  between  seven  and  eight  that  morning,  Fabrizio  had  been 
obliged  to  wait  for  the  departure  of  a  later  train  from  Rome. 
This  delay  had  been  so  far  fortunate  in  that  it  had  enabled  him 
to  receive  Countess  Vitali's  letter,  which,  as  he  had  anticipated, 
had  been  delivered  by  the  first  post  an  hour  after  his  receipt  of 
Taddeo's  telegram. 

The  letter,  it  must  be  confessed,  had  told  him  little  more  than 
Cristina  had  already  telegraphed  the  previous  night.     Everything, 


TEMPTATION  307 

she  wrote,  had  been  going  on  well,  when  Ugo  had  suddenly  com- 
plained of  renewed  internal  pain,  accompanied  by  violent  fits 
of  the  nausea  which  he  had  felt  for  several  days.  Sacchetti  had, 
of  course,  been  hastily  summoned,  and  had  recommenced  the 
injections  of  morfina  which  he  had  before  found  it  sufficient  to 
restrict  to  a  single  injection  late  in  the  evening  in  order  to  ensure 
his  patient  a  tolerably  quiet  night.  All  the  symptoms,  Countess 
Vitali  declared,  pointed  to  severe  internal  inflammation,  no  doubt 
caused  by  some  injury  which  was  only  now  beginning  to  show 
itself,  but  which  must  have  existed  from  the  first.  Of  course,  as 
she  reminded  Fabrizio  in  the  letter,  Sacchetti  had  always  feared 
some  similar  complication,  and  unfortunately  the  present  com- 
plication seemed  to  be  of  a  very  dangerous  nature.  The 
additional  injections  of  morfina  which  the  professor  had  given 
had  not  had  their  desired  effect;  and  indeed  had  seemed  to 
aggravate  the  symptoms  rather  than  relieve  them.  If  matters 
were  no  better  as  the  day  went  on.  Professor  Sacchetti  had 
announced  his  intention  of  telegraphing  to  a  colleague  at  Rome 
to  come  down  for  a  consultation,  as  an  operation  would  probably 
be  necessary. 

On  re-reading  this  letter  it  became  evident  to  Fabrizio  that  it 
had  been  written  some  hours  before  Cristina  had  despatched  her 
telegram  describing  Ugo's  state  as  gravissimo. 

The  letter  was  short,  and  Cristina  had  certainly  not  allowed 
herself  to  make  any  comments,  or  to  depart  in  any  way  from  a 
dry  statement  of  facts.  Under  the  circumstances,  Fabrizio  could 
hardly  wonder  at  her  reticence  concerning  her  own  feelings. 
He  had  been  surprised,  it  was  true,  that  the  final  telegram  should 
have  proceeded  from  Taddeo  and  not  from  Cristina  herself.  On 
reflection,  however,  this  also  had  seemed  to  be  natural.  No 
doubt  she  had  been  terribly  shocked  and  upset  by  so  unexpected 
and  tragic  a  result  of  Ugo's  accident,  the  more  so  as  everything 
had  appeared  to  be  going  on  satisfactorily.  It  was  quite  likely 
therefore,  that  she  would  have  left  all  details  to  Taddeo,  who  had 
at  once  thought  proper  to  telegraph  the  news,  and  to  request  the 
immediate  presence  of  Ugo's  nearest  relative. 

Fabrizio  had  felt,  as  it  were,  in  a  dream  ever  since  receiving 


308  TEMPTATION 

the  intelligence  of  his  cousin's  death.  On  arriving  at  Viterbo  he 
had  been  vaguely  conscious  of  the  fact  that  people  were  regard- 
ing him  with  some  curiosity ;  but  engrossed  as  he  was  in  his 
thoughts  he  had  certainly  neither  heard  the  isolated  hisses,  nor 
caught  the  opprobrious  epithet  which  some  member  of  the  crowd 
had  called  out  as  he  had  entered  Palazzo  Vitali. 

At  the  foot  of  the  staircase  leading  up  to  the  pia7io  nobile, 
Taddeo  and  one  or  two  members  of  the  household  were  waiting 
to  receive  him.  The  meeting  was  painful  enough,  at  all  events 
to  Taddeo;  for  the  old  servant  broke  down  completely  as  he 
greeted  the  new  head  of  Casa  Vitali.  In  one  of  the  numerous 
reception  rooms  of  the  cardinal's  apartment  Fabrizio  found  Pro- 
fessor Sacchetti,  and  a  short,  alert-looking  individual  who  was 
presented  to  him  by  the  professor  as  the  avvocato  Filippi,  Ugo's 
lawyer.  The  avvocato  Filippi  saluted  him  with  the  obsequious- 
ness he  considered  to  be  due  to  a  new  client.  In  matters  of 
business  the  Italian  is  not  apt  to  be  sentimental ;  and  the  lawyer 
went  straight  to  the  point  which  principally  concerned  him. 

"  Signor  conte,"  he  observed,  "  it  is  fortunate  that  you  have 
been  able  to  be  here  so  quickly.  As  you  are  of  course  aware, 
this — this  deplorable  event  makes  you  the  successor  to  the  late 
Count  Vitali,  and  I  am  entirely  at  your  service  as  the  man  of 
business  to  Casa  Vitali.  I  trust  it  is  unnecessary  to  assure  you 
that  your  interests  will  be  perfectly  safe  in  my  hands." 

Fabrizio  bowed.  "  I  know  nothing  of  my  poor  cousin's  affairs 
he  said  quickly,  "  though  I  am  aware  that,  being  his  nearest  of 
kin,  I  am  now  his  representative.     The  signora  contessa " 

"The  signora  contessa  has,  naturally,  a  first  charge  on  the 
estate,"  interrupted  the  lawyer.  "  The  porzione  vedovile  is  ample, 
and  the  signora  contessa  has  the  right  to  select  any  apartment  in 
Palazzo  Vitali  as  a  residence  for  the  remainder  of  her  life-time, 
and  any  articles  of  furniture  she  may  choose  to  place  in  that 
apartment.  Everything  else,  signor  conte,  passes  to  you  abso- 
lutely, as  sole  male  heir.  I  had  the  honour  of  drawing  up  the 
late  count's  will  at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  so  I  am  fully  ac- 
quainted with  its  provisions.  Since  then,  as  you  are  probably  aware, 
he  inherited  a  considerable  fortune  in  money  and  house  property 


TEMPTATION  309 

from  the  Marchesa  Santoro.  Count  Ugo's  will,  however,  stands 
to-day  as  it  was  originally  drawn  up.  Owing,  too,  to  the  accident 
of  your  being  the  sole  representative  of  Casa  Vitali,  you  inherit 
the  lands  and  the  estate  intact ;  no  division  being  necessary  as 
would  have  been  the  case  had  there  been  other  near  relatives." 

More  than  once  Fabrizio  attempted  to  interrupt  the  lawyer's 
somewhat  lengthy  statement.  It  was  impossible,  however,  to 
check  the  rapid  flow  of  words.  When  he  concluded,  Fabrizio 
turned  a  little  impatiently  to  Professor  Sacchetti. 

"  How  did  it  happen,  signor  professore  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

The  doctor  spread  out  his  hands.  "  Mah  1 "  he  exclaimed. 
"  It — happened.  Ecco  tutto  !  What  can  I  say  ?  A  sudden  in- 
flammation— the  result,  without  doubt,  of  an  internal  lesion  pro- 
duced by  the  weight  of  the  horse  on  the  viscera.  Violent  nausea, 
succeeded  by  cerebral  disturbance  producing  coma,  and  death. 
That,  signor  conte,  is  what  has  happened — so  far  as  I  am  able 
to  tell  you  superficially.  It  would  be  more  satisfactory — infinitely 
more  satisfactory — to  hold  an  autopsia,  I  have  suggested  as 
much  to  the  signora  contessa,  but  she  is  opposed  to  the 
idea " 

"  But  you  can  insist,"  said  Fabrizio,  as  he  paused. 

Professor  Sacchetti  shook  his  head.  "No,"  he  replied,  "I 
have  no  legal  right  to  insist  on  an  autopsia  in  this  case.  Count 
Ugo,  poveretto,  was  suff'ering  from  acute  visceral  concussion,  the 
causes  of  which  were  free  from  all  doubt.  Nothing  was  more 
hkely  than  that  complications  might  supervene,  setting  up  the 
acute  inflammation  which  was  the  undoubted  cause  of  death.  I 
confess  that  I  believed  all  fear  of  any  similar  complications  to  be 
at  an  end,  or  nearly  at  an  end,  and  for  this  reason  I  should  have 
preferred  to  make  an  examination,  in  order  to  ascertain  what  had 
been  the  full  extent  of  the  internal  injuries.  Nevertheless,  as  I 
say,  I  have  only  the  moral  right,  as  the  medico  curafite,  to  suggest  an 
autopsia.  I  have  no  legal  right  to  insist  upon  it,  because  the 
patient  succumbed  to  complications  which  any  doctor  would  re- 
cognise as  being  not  only  natural,  but  which  from  the  first  were 
to  be  apprehended.  Had  the  signora  contessa  consented,  there 
would  be  no  more  to  be  said.      But  those  things  are  painful 


310  TEMPTATION 

to  the  survivors,  si  capiscc,  and  where  there  is  no  legal  neces- 
sity— "  and  Professor  Sacchetti  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

Fabrizio  was  silent.  Why,  he  wondered,  should  Cristina 
object  ?  It  was  not  as  if —  He  put  the  thought  away  from  him 
with  a  slight  shudder,  remembering  what  she  had  told  him  lately. 

Looking  up  he  caught  Professor  Sacchetti's  eyes  fixed  upon  him 
penetratingly,  a  doctor's  sharp,  inquisitive  glance. 

"  If  you  wish  it,  professore,"  he  said  presently,  "  I  will 
speak  to  the  contessa  on  the  subject,  and  support  you  in  your 
suggestion.  I  can  understand  that  you  would  like  to  ascertain 
why,  after  so  many  days  had  elapsed  since  the  accident,  a  fatal 
complication  should  have  suddenly  declared  itself.  It  would  be 
more  satisfactory." 

Professor  Sacchetti  and  the  lawyer  exchanged  a  rapid  glance. 

"  Sicuro !  "  observed  the  professor,  "it  would  be  more  satisfac- 
tory— not  only  to  me,  but  also  to  others.  I  am  delighted  to  hear, 
conte,  that  you,  at  least,  do  not  share  the  contessa's  objections." 

"  I  ?  "  returned  Fabrizio  wonderingly.  "  Niente  affatto  !  why 
should  I  share  them  ?  Of  course,"  he  added  hastily,  "  I  under- 
stand them.  Those  things,  as  you  say,  are  very  painful  to  the 
feelings  of  the  survivors.  And  to  the  contessa — "  and  he  paused 
abruptly. 

"  Precisely.  They  are  painful,"  replied  Professor  Sacchetti, 
"  but  there  are  other  things  which  might  be  more  painful  to  the 
signora  contessa — and  to  you,  conte.  Are  there  not,  Filippi?" 
he  added,  turning  to  the  lawyer, 

"  Certainly ! "  exclaimed  the  avvocato  Filippi,  "  most  un- 
doubtedly ! " 

Something  in  the  tone  of  their  voices  made  Fabrizio  look  at 
them  inquiringly. 

"  Other  things  ?  "  he  repeated.     "  I  do  not  understand." 

Professor  Sacchetti  cleared  his  throat  with  a  somewhat  un- 
necessary violence,  and  then  he  glanced  at  the  doors  of  the 
apartment  as  though  to  assure  himself  that  they  were  closed. 

"Signer  conte,"  he  said,  at  length,  "these  are  delicate 
matters.  Have  I  your  permission  to  speak  plainly  ?  The  av- 
vocato Filippi  here  is  the  confidential  man  of  business  to  Casa 


TEMPTATION  311 

Vitali ;  what  is  said  in  his  presence  will  certainly  not  be  repeated 
elsewhere.  And  I — "  he  added  with  some  dignity,  "  am  myself. 
The  confidence  of  a  doctor  is,  or  should  be,  as  inviolate  as  that 
of  a  lawyer  or  a  priest." 

The  presentiment  of  coming  evil  which  had  never  left  Fabrizio 
since  he  had  received  Cristina's  telegram  the  evening  before, 
seemed  to  tighten  itself  like  a  band  round  his  heart  as  he  listened 
to  Professor  Sacchetti's  words. 

What  could  these  men  mean  ?  he  asked  himself.  There  must 
be  something  which  they  knew,  or  suspected,  of  which  he  was  as 
yet  in  ignorance.  Could  it  be  that  they  suspected  how  matters 
stood  between  him  and  Cristina  ?  Yet  even  if  they  did  suspect 
— and  had  not  Cristina  told  him  that  gossip  had  been  busy  with 
his  and  her  names  ? — what  could  it  matter  to  them — now  ?  Those 
were  not  matters  which  either  Sacchetti  or  the  lawyer  would  pre- 
sume to  mention  to  him,  however  much  they  might  discuss  them 
in  other  quarters. 

He  was  aware  that  Professor  Sacchetti  was  watching  him, 
curiously  and  intently.  The  avvocato  Filippi  on  the  contrary 
was  gazing  out  of  the  window,  and  appeared  to  be  nervous  and 
ill  at  ease. 

"You  will  permit  me  to  speak  freely,  signor  conte?"  repeated 
the  doctor. 

"  But  certainly,  professore  ! "  Fabrizio  replied.  "  Del  resto," 
he  added,  "  it  is  your  right  to  do  so.  I  can  only  say  that  I 
regret  the  contessa  does  not  agree  to  your  suggestion,  which 
seems  to  me  to  be  a  perfectly  legitimate  one." 

Professor  Sacchetti  hesitated.  "  No,"  he  said  quietly,  "  my 
suggestion  is  not  strictly  speaking  legitimate.  The  fact  of  its  not 
being  so  places  me  in  a  difficult  position.  I  imagine,  moreover, 
that  the  signora  contessa  is  perfectly  aware  of  this  difficulty.  I 
could,  of  course,  by  taking  a  very  grave  step,  make  an  autopsia 
unavoidable." 

The  little  colour  that  Fabrizio  Vitali  ever  had  in  his  face  left  it. 

"  I  must  ask  you  to  explain,  signor  professore,"  he  said. 

The  professor  bowed.  "  I  will  endeavour  to  do  so,"  he 
answered,   "  but,  as  I  say,   the  subject   is  a  very  delicate  one. 


312  TEMPTATION 

You  will  understand,  conte,  that  my  suggestion  is  made  not  so 
much  for  the  sake  of  my  professional  curiosity — if  you  like  to  call 
it  so — as  for  the  sake  of  Casa  Vitali.  Your  cousin  was  well 
known  here  at  Viterbo,  signor  conte — well  known  and  greatly 
beloved  by  all  classes.  Well,  you  are  doubtless  aware  that  when 
a  well  known  individual  dies  suddenly  the  people  are  apt  to 
hazard  strange  conjectures  as  to  the  true  cause  of  death.  In 
Rome,  even  at  the  present  time,  if  a  prominent  cardinal  dies 
unexpectedly,  there  are  people  always  ready  to  shrug  their 
shoulders,  and  whisper  the  word — poison.  It  is  a  tradition — 
but  unfortunately,  there  is  reason  enough  for  its  origin,  not  only 
in  Rome,  but  in  any  other  of  our  cities." 

Fabrizio  started  to  his  feet.  "  Signore  professore ! "  he 
exclaimed  indignantly. 

Professor  Sacchetti  spread  out  his  hands  apologetically.  "  The 
thing  is  absurd — ridiculous,"  he  continued  hastily,  "  but,  un- 
luckily, people  do  not  always  stop  to  consider  whether  the  idle 
reports  they  circulate  be  absurd,  or  not.  Why,  or  how,  I  cannot 
tell  you — but  the  fact  remains  that  among  a  certain  class  in 
Viterbo  there  exists  a  suspicion  that  Count  Ugo's  death  was  not 
entirely  due  to  natural  causes.  It  is  a  suspicion  which,  I  regret 
to  say,  seems  to  be  shared  even  by  his  household." 

Fabrizio  Vitali  groaned.  "  Gran  Dio  !  "  he  murmured  to  him- 
self. The  room  seemed  to  circle  round  him,  and  staggering  back 
he  fell  into  a  chair,  wiping  drops  of  perspiration  from  his 
forehead. 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  searchingly,  critically — and  then  his 
keen,  black  eyes,  which  had  been  as  hard  as  steel,  suddenly 
softened. 

"  Do  you  still  find  yourself  in  agreement  with  the  suggestion 
I  have  made  to  the  signora  contessa,  signor  conte  ? "  he  said 
quietly. 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  avvocato  Filippi  withdrew 
his  gaze  from  the  window,  and  looked  at  his  new  client. 

"I  find  myself  more  in  agreement  with  it  than  ever — more 
than  ever,"  replied  Fabrizio  Vitali  dully.  "  But  it  is  a  question 
for  the  signora  contessa  to  decide.     I  am  only  a  distant  relative, 


TEMPTATION  318 

though  I  happen  to  be  my  cousin's  heir ;  but  she  is  his  widow. 
I  shall  speak  to  her." 

"  Caro  signor  conte,"  said  Professor  Sacchetti,  "I  fear  that  you 
will  find  her  strongly  opposed  to  my  suggestion.  I  have  not,  as 
you  may  imagine,  as  yet  given  her  any  hint  as  to  my  real  motives 
for  making  it.  I  told  her  that  it  would  be  for  my  own  personal 
satisfaction.  That  was  not  strictly  true,  as  you  know.  However, 
I  trusted  that  your  influence  would  prevail,  and  that,  after  learn- 
ing your  views,  the  contessa  would  not  by  continuing  her  opposi- 
tion oblige  me  to  take  a  very  disagreeable  step — "  and  he  paused, 
and  looked  at  Fabrizio  gravely. 

"  And  that  step  would  be — ?  "  asked  Fabrizio,  in  a  low  voice, 
though  he  already  guessed  at  the  answer. 

Professor  Sacchetti  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Mah  ] "  he  re- 
pHed  drily,  "the  final  decision  rests  with  me.  I  should  merely 
have  to  declare  to  the  authorities  that  I  was  not  fully  prepared  to 
give  a  certificate  as  to  the  cause  of  Count  Ugo's  death,  and  an 
autopsia  would  become  obligatory." 

"  There  could  be  nothing  to  be  feared  from  it,"  said  Fabrizio 
eagerly. 

"  Of  course  not !  1  am  far  from  suggesting  such  a  thing.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  would,  in  my  opinion,  be  much  to  be  feared 
were  I  to  feel  myself  compelled  to  carry  it  out  in  opposition  to  the 
wishes  of  the  family.  People's  tongues  would  not  be  silenced. 
Let  us  consider  a  little.  I  warned  you  that  I  should  have 
to  touch  on  delicate  matters.  Well,  the  Contessa  Vitali  is  not 
loved  as  her  husband  was  loved.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
certain  ideas  which,  it  seems,  the  people  here  have  got  into  their 
heads  concerning  her.  It  is  said  that  Count  Ugo's  married  life 
was  not  a  happy  one,  and  I  have  heard  the  contessa  much 
blamed.  That,  however,  is  no  business  of  mine,  none  at  all !  I 
can  understand,  all  the  same,  that  this  hostility  to  the  contessa  is 
at  the  bottom  of  certain  deplorable  rumours  which  are  being 
widely  circulated.  You  can  see  for  yourself,  conte,  how  desirable — 
I  may  say  how  imperative  it  is  that  neither  the  contessa  nor  you 
should  lend  any  colour  to  these  rumours  by  any  action  which 
might  be  misinterpreted.     Do  I  explain  myself?  " 


314  TEMPTATION 

"  Certainly ! "  replied  Fabrizio.  "  I  am  sure,"  he  added  quickly, 
"that  the  contessa  will  at  once  see  the  advisability  of  agreeing  to 
your  wishes.  It  is  horrible,"  he  continued  excitably,  "  horrible  ! 
What  could  have  put  such  an  idea  into  people's  heads  ?  " 

Professor  Sacchetti  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  It  is  easy  to  put 
ideas  into  people's  heads,"  he  said,  "  more  especially  uneducated 
people.  The  difficulty  is  to  get  the  ideas  out  of  their  heads 
again.  In  this  instance,  I  fear  that  the  contessa's  unfortunate  un- 
popularity is  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  matter." 

"  But  she  nursed  her  husband  devotedly ! "  exclaimed  Fabrizio. 

"  No  one  can  deny  that,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  I  have  said  as 
much  to  Taddeo — to  everybody." 

"  To  Taddeo ! "  repeated  Fabrizio.  "  You  do  not  mean  to  say 
professore,  that  Taddeo  shares  this  absurd  suspicion  ? " 

"  Unluckily,  he  does  share  it.  It  was  he  who  first  told  me 
what  was  being  said.  I  questioned  him  sharply  this  morning, 
but  he  will  not  commit  himself.  I  think  he  wished  to  see  you, 
signor  conte,  before  explaining  his  anxiety  that  there  should  be 
an  autopsia." 

Fabrizio  was  perfectly  calm  now,  but  it  did  not  require  the 
experienced  eye  of  Professor  Sacchetti  to  see  that  his  calmness 
was  due  to  a  strong  restraint  he  was  putting  on  himself,  and  that 
he  was  a  prey  to  extreme  nervous  tension.  In  truth,  he  was 
fighting  desperately  against  a  terrible  dread.  The  vague  sense  of 
coming  evil  which  had  oppressed  him  during  the  last  few  hours 
seemed  gradually  to  be  assuming  a  definite  shape;  and  he  grasped 
wildly  and  feverishly  at  any  argument  which  could  form  as  it  were 
a  barrier  against  its  approach. 

"  If  Taddeo  suspected  anything  so  horrible,"  he  said ;  "  why 
did  he  wait  until — until  all  was  over  before  telling  you  of  his 
suspicions  ?  The  thing  is  absurd — intolerable  !  The  man  is  an 
old  servant,  and  he  was  devoted  to  my  poor  cousin,  that  I  know. 
At  the  same  time  he  dislikes  the  contessa,  and  the  dislike  I 
believe,  is  mutual.  Ugo  used  to  laugh  about  it,  but  he  would 
never  hear  of  replacing  Taddeo,  because  the  man  had  been 
servant  also  to  his  father.  Do  you  not  see  for  yourself  how  utterly 
absurd  the  whole  thing  is,  professore  ?     As  I  say,  if  Taddeo  had 


TEMPTATION  315 

really  some  grounds  for  believing  my  cousin's  death  to  be  due  to 
— to  foul  play,  why  did  he  wait  until  it  was  too  late  ?  why  did  he 
not  come  to  you  days  ago?  It  is  intolerable  that  such  an 
abominable  rumour  should  originate  in  nothing  more  than  the 
unreasoning  jealousy  of  an  old  servant." 

Both  Professor  Sacchetti  and  the  lawyer  looked  at  Fabrizio 
curiously. 

"Would  it  not  be  well  that  you  should  interview  Taddeo 
yourself,  signor  conte,  and  ask  him  that  question  ?  "  observed  the 
avvocato  Filippi,  after  a  pause. 

"Sicuro!"  the  professor  exclaimed.  "Perhaps  the  man 
would  tell  you  more  than  he  has  chosen  to  tell  me,  conte.  I 
should  certainly  send  for  him.  Of  course  we,  Signor  Filippi  and 
myself,  will  retire  and  leave  you  alone  together.  But  I  need  not 
remind  you  that  time  presses.  The  law  must  be  conformed  to, 
and  whatever  is  done  must  be  done  quickly." 

Fabrizio  Vitali  shook  his  head.  "You  will  forgive  me, 
signori,"  he  said  quietly,  "  but  I  am  not  inclined  to  attach  so 
much  importance  to  this  individual's  conjectures.  I  should 
prefer  to  ignore  them  until  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
with  the  signora  contessa.  You  can  scarcely  expect  me  to 
consult  a  servant  before  consulting  my  cousin's  widow.  I  have 
no  doubt  that,  after  I  have  seen  the  contessa,  there  will  be  no 
reason  to  interview  Taddeo  or  anybody  else.  I  am  confident 
that,  so  soon  as  she  learns  from  me  your  real  motive  in  wishing 
to  examine  further  into  the  causes  of  her  husband's  death,  she 
will  be  the  first  to  withdraw  her  objections,  however  painful  it 
may  be  to  her  feelings." 

Fabrizio  was  very  pale,  and  he  spoke  in  a  low,  though  per- 
fectly calm  voice,  while  there  was  a  certain  quiet  dignity  in  his 
bearing  which  was  not  lost  upon  his  hearers. 

Professor  Sacchetti  bowed.  "  I  quite  understand  your  feelings, 
signor  conte,"  he  said  courteously.  "All  that  I  would  venture 
to  repeat  is,  that  time  presses — for  obvious  reasons.  I  trust 
that  you  will  be  able  to  tell  us  that  the  signora  contessa  is  no 
longer  determined  to  withhold  her  consent  to  an  autopsia  being 
made.     And,  in  that  case,"  he  added,  "  it  will  of  course  be  un- 


316  TEMPTATION 

necessary  to  take  further  notice  of  the  existence  of  any  absurd 
rumours  which  may  have  been  circulated." 

Fabrizio  did  not  reply.  He  rose  from  his  chair  and,  crossing  the 
room,  rang  the  bell.    In  a  few  moments  Taddeo  presented  himself. 

"  The  signora  contessa  knows  that  I  have  arrived  ? "  Fabrizio 
asked  the  man. 

"  Signor  conte,  si." 

"  Kindly  tell  her  that,  as  soon  as  she  is  able  to  receive  me, 
I  am  anxious  to  see  her." 

The  three  men  remained  in  silence,  awaiting  Taddeo's  return. 
Fabrizio  resumed  his  seat,  and  sat  with  his  face  partially  con- 
cealed by  his  hand.  Not  a  sound  was  audible  in  the  room 
save  the  slow  ticking  of  a  clock  on  a  gilded  console  near  the 
double  doors  communicating  with  the  gallery.  Suddenly  Fabrizio 
started  up  and  began  to  pace  hurriedly  up  and  down  the  room. 
Professor  Sacchetti  who  was  looking  at  him  saw  an  expression 
of  fear,  almost  of  terror  pass  over  his  face,  and  noticed  with 
surprise  that  he  raised  his  hands  to  his  ears  as  though  to  shut 
out  some  sound  which  distressed  him. 

In  a  moment  the  doctor  was  by  Fabrizio's  side.  "Conte,"  he 
said  quietly,  "you  are  unwell— upset.  These  things  are  trying 
to  the  nerves.  Probably  you  have  eaten  nothing,  and  it  is  late. 
As  a  doctor,  I  must  insist  on  your  having  some  food  and  some 
wine  before  you  go  to  the  contessa.  It  is  not  worth  while  to  make 
oneself  ill." 

Fabrizio  shook  his  head.  "It  is  nothing,"  he  said  hastily. 
"Yes,  professore, — as  you  say,  these  things  are  bad  for  the 
nerves.  You  are  right — I  have  eaten  nothing  this  morning. 
No  doubt  Taddeo  will  have  prepared  breakfast." 

At  that  moment  Taddeo  re-entered  the  room. 

"  The  signora  contessa  will  be  glad  to  receive  the  signor  conte 
at  two  o'clock,"  he  said. 

Professor  Sacchetti  looked  at  the  clock.  "  It  is  now  a  quarter 
to  one,"  he  observed.  "There  will  be  ample  time  for  you  to 
have  the  breakfast  you  need,  conte.  Shall  I  be  in  your  way  if 
I  offer  to  remain  with  you  ?  " 

Fabrizio  assented  eagerly.     He  did  not  wish  to  be  left  alone 


TEMPTATION  317 

with  Taddeo.  "Most  willingly,  professore!"  he  replied,  "and 
I  hope  that  you,  Signor  Filippi,  will  also  remain  to  breakfast. 
I  fear  that  the  meal  has  been  too  long  delayed ;  but  no  doubt 
Taddeo  will  serve  it  immediately." 

Professor  Sacchetti  appeared  as  though  unable  to  take  his  eyes 
off  Fabrizio's  face.  He  was  studying  it,  as  an  artist  might  study 
the  face  of  a  portrait. 

But  the  professor's  manner  was  no  longer  so  dry,  and  every 
now  and  then  a  gleam  of  sympathy  shot  from  his  scrutinising 
eyes.  As  if  he  were  reading  in  an  open  book,  he  could  read  the 
signs  in  Fabrizio's  countenance  of  severe  mental  struggle,  and 
perhaps  of  something  more.  He  knew  that  the  man  who  sat 
silently  at  the  table  opposite  to  him,  eating  little  but  drinking 
repeatedly,  was  suffering  acutely.  Nevertheless,  he  felt  confident 
that  Fabrizio  Vitali  had  been  sincere  in  every  word  he  had 
spoken. 

"  All  the  same,"  Professor  Sachetti  said  to  himself,  "  there 
must  certainly  be  an  autopsia.  The  widow  will  not  dare  to 
refuse  it.  But  he — "  and  he  looked  again  at  Fabrizio,  "he 
knows  nothing.     He  only  dreads  what  he  may  have  to  know." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

"T^ON  BASILIO  had  just  finished  saying  mass.  There  were 
^^^  very  few  of  his  parishioners  present,  for  it  was  a  giorno  di 
lavoro.  Moreover,  every  able-bodied  man,  woman,  and  child  was 
too  busily  employed  on  the  vintage  to  afford  the  time  to  attend 
the  mass  which  \hQ\x  parroco  said  every  morning  at  seven  o'clock 
during  the  summer  months  and  at  eight  o'clock  in  winter.  The 
congregation  had  been  limited  to  a  possible  dozen  of  the  old  and 
infirm  of  both  sexes ;  and  even  these  showed  none  of  their  usual 
inclination  to  linger  inside  the  church  after  Don  Basilio,  accom- 
panied by  his  server,  had  disappeared  with  the  sacred  vessels  into 
the  sacristy.  They,  too,  were  eager  to  make  their  way  to  the 
nearest  vineyards ;  for  who  could  tell  whether,  when  the  vintage 
came  round  again,  they  would  still  be  alive  and  able  to  watch  the 
plucking  of  the  grapes,  or  still  be  able  to  flatter  themselves  that 
they  were  taking  their  share  of  the  work  notwithstanding  stiff 
limbs  and  weakness  of  back  ? 

A  certain  restlessness  had  been  observable  in  the  little  congrega- 
tion as  Don  Basilio,  the  mass  concluded,  knelt  before  the  altar  to 
recite  the  few  short  prayers  he  was  accustomed  to  offer  before 
leaving  the  church.  One  or  two  old  men  had  actually  shuffled 
out  of  the  building  during  the  reading  of  the  last  gospel,  confident 
that  the  Madonna  and  the  saints  would  not  be  offended  at  their 
desire  to  be  in  time  to  see  the  last  basket  loads  of  grapes  leave 
Sor  Cecco's  vineyard  behind  his  osteria — that  vineyard  which 
supplied  the  red  wine  they  hoped  to  drink  on  many  a  festa 
through  the  coming  winter ;  wine  which,  Sor  Cecco  himself 
was  apt  proudly  to  declare,  was  fit  for  both  the  King  and  the 
Pope,  if  these  illustrious  personages  did  but  know  it. 

Don  Basilio  was  leaving  the  church,  and  smiling  quietly  to 
himself  as  he  saw  the  scattered  members  of  his  flock  hastening  to 
the  little  osteria  where,  besides  the  withered  bush  hanging  over 
318 


TEMPTATION  319 

the  door,  a  placard  announced  in  sprawling  characters  the  sale 
within  of  Vino  scelto  dalle  proprie  vigne.  He  had  heard  the 
shuffling  footsteps  during  the  prayers,  and  was  inclined  to  agree 
with  the  owners  of  the  feet  that,  under  the  exceptional  circum- 
stances, the  Madonna  would  be  disposed  not  to  stand  upon 
ceremony. 

As  he  turned  into  his  garden,  on  his  way  to  his  house  where 
he  would  find  his  cup  of  coffee  and  roll  awaiting  him  with  which 
he  was  wont  to  break  his  fast  after  saying  mass,  he  was  surprised 
to  see  a  low  dog-cart  driven  by  one  of  the  servants  of  Villa 
Falconara  approaching  at  a  rapid  pace.  With  his  hand  on  the  gate 
of  the  garden  Don  Basilio  paused,  waiting  for  the  man  to  pull  up. 

"  Where  are  you  going  in  such  a  hurry,  Vincenzo  ?  "  he  called 
out,  as  he  recognised  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice's  groom  who 
always  accompanied  her  when  she  drove. 

"  Reverendo,  a  brutta  notizia  has  come  from  Viterbo  this  morn- 
ing. The  poor  signor  conte  is  dead.  The  signora  duchessa  sent 
me  to  bring  you  to  the  Villa  at  once.  Povera  signora — she  is 
very  grieved " 

"  The  signor  conte  ! "  exclaimed  Don  Basilio.  "  Do  you  mean 
to  say  it  is  the  Conte  Vitali  who  is  dead  ?  " 

"Proprio  lui!  He  died  this  morning,  before  sunrise.  Rever- 
endo, will  you  get  up  beside  me  ?  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we 
shall  be  at  the  Villa." 

Don  Basilio  hurriedly  got  into  the  dog-cart  without  bestowing 
another  thought  on  his  coffee. 

*'  It  cannot  be  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is  surely  some  false  report, 
some  mistake." 

The  boy  at  his  side  shook  his  head  gloomily.  "  It  is  true," 
he  said,  "  purtroppo  !  the  portone  of  Palazzo  Vitali  is  closed ;  all 
the  city  knows  it.  Povero  signor  conte  !  everybody  loved  him — 
everybody,  except — "  he  paused  suddenly,  and  drew  his  whip 
lightly  across  the  horse's  flank 

Don  Basilio  looked  at  him.  "  How  did  it  happen  ?  "  he  asked. 
"Two  days  ago  I  called  at  Palazzo  Vitali,  and  he  was  going  on 
well — so  well  that  the  doctor  declared  all  danger  might  be  said  to 
be  over.     Two  days  ago — and  to-day ! " 


320  TEMPTATION 

"  It  was  sudden,  very  sudden,"  said  the  lad,  and  then,  as  he 
had  done  before,  he  checked  himself  abruptly,  as  though  unwilling 
to  say  more.  Don  Basilio,  lost  in  his  own  thoughts,  did  not 
notice  his  companion's  hesitation.  He  was  thinking  of  the  life 
thus  cut  off  in  the  prime  of  its  strength  and  manhood.  He 
thought  too,  of  Vittoria  di  San  Felice,  for  he  knew  that  to  her 
the  news  would  have  come  as  a  terrible  shock.  Surely,  unless 
Sacchetti  had  been  mistaken  from  the  first,  some  unaccount- 
ably severe  complication  must  have  arisen  within  the  past  two 
days  to  produce  death  so  quickly  !  And  Sacchetti  was  not  a 
man  who  made  mistakes — his  reputation  was  too  assured  for 
that. 

The  horse  quickly  covered  the  couple  of  miles  between  Don 
Basilio's  village  and  Villa  Falconara,  and  very  soon  the  dog-cart 
swept  into  the  open  courtyard.  It  was  scarcely  eight  o'clock, 
but  a  servant  who  received  the  priest  at  the  entrance  door  told 
him  the  signora  duchessa  had  given  orders  that  he  was  at  once 
to  be  shown  to  her  own  sitting-room.  The  man  escorted  him  to 
the  room,  and  opening  the  door,  closed  it  quickly  and  silently 
behind  him. 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  was  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  room. 
She  was  evidently  awaiting  his  arrival  with  anxiety.  Her  face 
was  very  pale,  but  she  was  perfectly  composed,  and  her  manner, 
Don  Basilio  thought,  was  almost  cold.  Its  coldness  did  not 
deceive  him.  He  had  remarked  it  on  another  occasion,  when 
the  news  of  her  husband's  death  had  been  brought  to  her.  At 
the  time  he  had  wondered  at  it ;  but  of  late  years  he  had  grown 
to  know  her  better.  But  what  he  did  wonder  at  now  was  the 
expression  he  saw  on  her  face.  That  expression  he  had  never 
seen  before.  There  was  a  look  of  horrified  protest  in  her  eyes, 
and  Don  BasiHo  could  not  help  thinking  that  there  was  anger, 
fierce  anger,  as  well. 

'*  You  have  heard  ?  "  she  said,  as  he  approached  her. 

"  Vincenzo  told  me,"  rephed  Don  Basilio  simply. 

Vittoria  walked  to  the  window. 

"  They  have  murdered  him,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

Don    Basilio    uttered   a    cry    of  horror.      *'  Duchessa  ! "  he 


TEMPTATION  321 

exclaimed.  "  For  the  love  of  God  !  do  you  know  what  you  are 
saying  ! " 

Looking  always  from  the  window,  Vittoria  continued  in  the 
same  low,  level  tones.  "They  have  murdered  him.  Did  not 
Vincenzo  tell  you  that  ?  It  is  what  the  people  are  saying  in 
Viterbo.     Why  else  should  he  have  died  ? " 

*'  Because  God  took  him.  The  other  is  monstrous — impossible. 
Duchessa — let  me  entreat  you  to  calm  yourself." 

Vittoria  turned  and  looked  at  him.  "  Am  I  not  calm  ?  "  she 
asked  quietly. 

"You  have  heard  some  ridiculous  tale,"  continued  Don 
Basilio,  "some  gossip  of  the  basso  popolo  in  the  city.  It  is 
disgraceful  that  such  a  thing  should  have  been  told  to  you — that 
it  should  have  reached  your  ears  !  " 

"  They  have  murdered  him,"  repeated  Vittoria  di  San  Felice. 
'*  The  people  are  right — and  we,  we  have  stood  by  and 
allowed  him  to  be  murdered."  Her  voice  broke  a  little,  but  the 
look  on  her  face  never  changed. 

Don  Basilio  stared  at  her,  convinced  that  the  sudden  shock 
had  been  too  much  for  her.  An  intense  indignation  arose 
within  him  against  those  who,  in  bringing  her  the  tidings  of  Ugo 
Vitali's  death,  had  also  told  her  of  some  idle  rumour  that  no 
doubt  was  being  discussed  among  the  lower  orders  in  Viterbo. 
Had  she  not  been  completely  upset  by  the  news  of  Count 
Vitali's  death,  it  would  have  been  impossible,  Don  Basilio 
thought,  that  she  should  give  a  moment's  attention  to  such  a 
report. 

"  Signora  duchessa,"  he  said  gravely,  "  we  have  no  right  to 
say  such  things,  no  right  even  to  think  them.  You  must 
remember  that  from  the  first  Count  Ugo  was  in  the  hands  of 
Sacchetti,  and  we  all  know  what  Sacchetti  is.  No  doubt  the 
basso  popolo  in  Viterbo  have  set  about  among  themselves  some 
silly  story.  It  is  often  the  way  when  death  unexpectedly  carries 
off  some  prominent  individual.  The  people  love  a  mystery,  or  a 
scandal.  But  you,  duchessa,  should  not  allow  your  mind  to  dwell 
upon  such  things.     It — it  is  unworthy  of  you  ! " 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  looked  at  him.     "  I  know  it  is  unworthy 

X 


322  TEMPTATION 

of  me  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  but  I  feel  that  the  people  are  right — 
that  what  they  say  is  true.  Listen,  Don  Basilio.  For  long  I 
have  known  that  Vitali  was  not  happy  with  his  wife.  He  never 
told  me  so — no  !  but  I  knew  it  all  the  same.  Latterly  he  has 
never  been  near  me." 

"That  does  not  seem  to  me  to  prove  he  was  unhappy  at 
home,"  observed  Don  Basilio,  a  little  drily. 

"  I  hoped  that  it  proved  the  contrary,"  Vittoria  said  simply, 
"but  I  do  not  think  it  did.  Do  you  remember  my  saying  to  you 
some  weeks  ago  that,  meaning  to  do  right,  I  feared  I  had  done 
wrong — that  I  had  interfered  in  what  was  no  business  of  mine  ? 
As  you  know,  on  that  occasion  I  sent  Vitali  back  to  his  wife. 
Meaning  to  be  a  loyal  friend  to  him,  I — the  friend  whom  he 
trusted  more  than  he  felt  he  could  trust  his  wife — deserted  him. 
I  was  afraid  of  his  confidence.  Do  you  understand,  Don  Basilio  ? 
I  was  afraid." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  priest  gently.  "I  think  I  understand. 
You  were  right  to  be  afraid  of  it." 

"  I  only  saw  him  once  again — only  once,"  continued  Vittoria, 
"and  then  I  understood  that  what  I  had  done  was  of  no  use.  I 
remember  you  told  me  I  had  been  too  hasty  in  supposing  that 
Countess  Vitali  would  look  at  things  from  my  point  of  view. 
Vitali  acted  upon  my  advice — yes  !  and  his  wife  continued  to 
deceive  him.  I  had  appealed  to  his  chivalry,  do  you  see  ?  but 
I  was  afraid  of  speaking  plainly  to  him,  of  telling  him  that  I  felt, 
I  knew,  he  was  being  deceived.  Had  I  been  a  man,  I  could 
have  done  it,  but " 

"  I  understand,"  repeated  Don  Basilio.  "  It  is  true,"  he 
continued,  "  I  did  warn  you  that  Countess  Vitali  might  take 
advantage  of  the  fact  that  her  husband  had  consulted  you  about 
a  letter  reflecting  on  her  conduct.  It  would  have  been  better 
had  she  never  been  made  aware  of  it.  She  would  never  believe 
that  you  had  refused  her  husband's  confidence,  and  that  you  had 
only  advised  him  to  do  what  was  honourable.  But  all  this, 
duchessa,  is  beside  the  point.  Countess  Vitali  may  be  a  bad 
woman,  and  she  may  have  deceived  her  husband.  But  you 
have   named   graver  things  than   these — things  which,  without 


TEMPTATION  323 

positive  proof,  you  have  no  right  even  to  suspect.  A  great 
sorrow  has  fallen  upon  you ;  greater,  probably,  than  you  feel 
yourself  able  to  acknowledge  even  to  yourself.  But  a  great 
sorrow  should  not  make  us  unjust.  Even  Sacchetti  may  have 
made  a  mistake,  and  may  have  been  too  ready  to  assume  that  all 
danger  of  some  sudden  complication  was  past.  Reflect  a  little, 
duchessa.  Would  it  not  be  impossible  that  Sacchetti  should 
have  failed  at  once  to  detect  any  attempt  at  interference  with  his 
treatment  of  the  case?  Moreover,  if  it  be  true  that  Countess 
Vitali  had  succeeded  in  deceiving  her  husband,  and  I  fear,  from 
what  I  have  been  told  very  recently,  that  there  may  be  some 
truth  in  the  stories  concerning  her  and  Fabrizio  Vitali— what 
motive  was  there  for  committing  a  monstrous  crime  ?  She  had 
only  to  continue  her  deception." 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  was  silent. 

Don  Basilio  misinterpreted  her  silence,  and  thought  he  would 
press  his  argument  home. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said,  "but,  if  this  terrible  idea  has  never 
been  put  into  your  mind — if  your  servants  had  never  told  you  of 
what  was  being  said  in  the  obscure  caffe  and  osterie  in  Viterbo — 
would  you  ever  have  allowed  yourself  to  suspect  such  a  thing  ? 
Surely  not,  duchessa  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,"  replied  Vittoria  presently.  "  All  that  I 
can  tell  you  is  that  something  assures  me  the  people  are  right, 
that  Vitali's  death  is  not  a  natural  death.  It  is  useless  to  tell  me 
that  I  have  no  right  to  feel  this — that  I  have  no  proof.  I  know 
that  I  feel  it — that  I  shall  always  feel  it — and,  sooner  or  later,  I 
will  find  out  the  truth." 

This  time  it  was  Don  Basilio  who  remained  silent.  He  felt, 
indeed,  that  it  was  no  moment  to  argue  with  a  woman  who  was 
crushed  beneath  a  grief  which,  as  he  suspected,  was  more  bitter 
than  her  pride  or  the  convenances  of  the  world  would  permit  of  her 
acknowledging.  All  the  same,  he  was  not  a  little  surprised  at 
what  he  could  only  beUeve  to  be  an  unreasoning  attitude  on  the 
Duchessa  di  San  Felice's  part.  The  idea  was  too  montrous — too 
impossible.  He  did  not  doubt  that  the  Contessa  Vitali  was  a 
woman  whose  nature  was  evil,  for  he  had  felt  evil  to  be  near  him 


324  TEMPTATION 

whenever  he  had  found  himself  in  her  presence.  But  Countess 
Vitali  could  scarcely  have  acted  alone,  supposing  her  to  be 
capable  of  so  diabolical  an  intrigue ;  and  he  could  not  believe  it 
possible  that  Fabrizio  Vitali,  whom  he  had  regarded  as  nothing 
more  than  an  amiable  if  rather  weak  young  man  possessed  of  a 
thoughtful  but  untrained  mind,  could  have  lent  himself  to  further- 
ing a  heartless  crime.  He  told  himself  that,  when  the  first  effects 
of  the  shock  had  passed,  the  duchessa  would  recover  her  better 
judgment,  and  would  display  the  same  dignified  courage  which 
he  had  seen  her  display  in  another  great  crisis  in  her  life.  But 
in  the  meantime  his  heart  bled  for  her,  as  the  heart  of  a  parent 
might  have  bled  for  a  daughter.  Like  many  others  in  the 
neighbourhood,  he  had  at  one  time  hoped  to  see  a  marriage 
between  the  duchessa  and  her  old  friend  Count  Vitali.  Her  life, 
with  all  its  interests,  was  still  a  lonely  one,  for  she  was  a  young 
woman  yet.  It  had  been  a  disappointment  to  Don  Basilio  when 
Ugo  Vitali  had  looked  elsewhere  for  a  wife,  and  the  disappoint- 
ment had  been  still  greater  when  it  became  evident  that  Ugo  had 
not  chosen  wisely.  The  priest  had  always  wondered  whether  it 
was  loyalty  to  her  late  husband  alone  which  had  prevented  the 
Duchessa  di  San  Felice  from  allowing  her  friendship  for  Count 
Vitali  to  develop  into  anything  more  than  friendship.  He  could 
understand  how,  owing  to  the  subtle  difference  in  their  social 
grades,  a  man  like  Ugo  Vitali,  nobly  born  though  he  was,  would 
hesitate  before  offering  himself  to  a  woman  of  the  alia  nobilta 
like  Vittoria  di  San  Felice.  Moreover,  he  knew  that  Ugo's  pride 
was  as  great,  and  most  probably  considerably  greater  than  the 
duchessa's.  The  whole  thing  had  seemed  to  him  suflficiently 
absurd ;  but  then,  as  he  had  argued  to  himself,  he  was  only  a 
simple  parish  priest,  of  middle-class  origin,  and  it  was  useless  for 
him  to  try  to  understand  the  considerations  by  which  others 
born  in  a  different  sphere  from  his  own  might  be  influenced. 
But  it  was  certainly  a  pity  to  see  two  people  so  strongly  in 
sympathy  with  one  another  kept  asunder,  as  Don  Basilio  strongly 
suspected,  by  mere  social  prejudices  and  by  a  mutual  fear  of 
appearing  to  be  giving  or  asking  too  much.  Since  Count  Vitali's 
marriage  the  whole  matter  had  seemed  to  be  more  pitiful  than 


TEMPTATION  325 

ever  j  and  Don  Basilio  had  recently  often  wondered  to  himself 
whether  the  duchessa  did  not  now  realise  the  pity  of  it  when  it 
was  too  late.  If  she  did,  she  had  certainly  made  no  sign ;  and 
how  loyally  she  had  endeavoured  to  befriend  the  woman  her 
friend  had  married  Don  Basilio  knew  better,  probably,  than 
anybody  else. 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  "  he  asked  presently.  "  You 
know  that  I  will  do  anything — everything  that  I  can  to  comfort 
you,  to  relieve  your  mind.  Only,  I  implore  you,  duchessa,  do 
not  allow  your  thoughts  to  dwell  on  that  horrible  idea  !  God  has 
acted  as  He  has  thought  fit.  He  knows  so  much  better  than  we, 
in  our  ignorance,  can  ever  know,  until  it  pleases  Him  to  open  our 
eyes,  as  He  has  opened  the  eyes  of  the  friend  for  whom  we  are 
mourning.  But  we  have  no  right  to  assume  that  others  have 
dared  to  interfere  with  the  will  of  God." 

"  He  was  recovering,"  said  Vittoria,  "  and  when  they  knew  he 
was  recovering  they  killed  him.  How  is  it  that  you  cannot 
understand?  She — that  woman,  killed  him;  how  I  do  not  know 
— yet.  And  the  other,  her  lover,  he  takes  his  cousin's  name  and 
lands " 

"  Duchessa  !  "  exclaimed  Don  Basilio  almost  sternly,  "  I  will 
not  listen  to  this.  For  the  love  of  God,  put  these  thoughts  out  of 
your  mind.  They  are  morbid  thoughts — unworthy  of  you.  You 
are  not  yet  yourself,  or  you  would  not  entertain  them.  Listen  !  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I  will  go  to  Viterbo — to  Palazzo 
Vitali.  There  I  shall  learn  what  has  caused  this  rumour  to  get 
about.  Sacchetti  is  my  intimate  friend.  He  will  tell  me 
everything ;  and  the  old  servant,  Taddeo — he  has  known  me 
these  five  and  twenty  years.  But,  before  I  go,  I  will  say  a  mass 
in  the  chapel — you  understand  ?  Oh,  I  am  still  fasting — there  is 
no  difficulty  !  And  afterwards  I  will  go  to  Viterbo.  Coraggio, 
signora  duchessa  !  coraggio,  figlia  mia  !  God  knows  what  is  best 
for  him,  and  for  us." 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  looked  at  him  steadily. 

*'  I  do  not  lack  courage,"  she  said.  "  When  I  know  that  God 
has  willed  this  thing,  I  shall  be  content.  But,  until  I  am  assured 
that  He  has  willed  it,  I  cannot  rest." 


326  TEMPTATION 

"  Unless  He  had  willed  it,  it  could  not  have  happened,"  said 
Don  Basilio  gently.  "  Even  if  what  you  think  were  true,  God 
would  still  have  willed  it,  for  some  merciful  purpose  of  His  own, 
which  we  do  not  yet  know — but  which  He  will  reveal  to  us  if  we 
have  eyes  to  see,  and  an  intelligence  to  understand." 

A  few  minutes  later,  in  the  presence  of  Vittoria  di  San  Felice 
and  her  household,  Don  Basilio  said  a  mass  for  the  departed. 

When,  later  on,  he  took  leave  of  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  he 
looked  into  her  face  and  saw  that  the  expression  he  had  wondered 
at  when  he  had  come  to  her  had  not  left  it.  He  turned  from  her 
with  a  sigh,  and  for  the  first  time  a  terrible  doubt  of  what  he 
might  learn  at  Palazzo  Vitali  filled  his  heart. 

Could  it  be,  he  wondered,  that  in  some  mysterious  way  the 
truth  had  been  conveyed  to  her  ?  or  would  he  be  able  to  return 
to  her  with  assurances  which  would  dispel  for  ever  the  look  he 
read  in  her  eyes  ? 


CHAPTER  XXX 

A  S  the  hour  ai)proached  when  he  would  again  meet  Cristina, 
'^^  Fabrizio  Vitali  felt  more  than  ever  as  a  man  might  feel 
when  about  to  face  a  terrible  ordeal.  The  sense  of  some  coming 
evil — some  horror  from  which  he  could  not  escape — oppressed  him 
with  ever  increasing  intensity,  and  he  now  no  longer  struggled  to 
free  himself  from  it.  There  was  no  use  in  struggling.  The 
horror,  whatever  it  might  be,  was  there;  waiting  for  him.  He 
knew  that  he  could  neither  retreat  before  it,  nor  pass  it.  Again 
and  again  he  told  himself  that  it  could  not  be  that — the  monstrous 
thing  which  Professor  Sacchetti  had  told  him  was  the  rumour 
current  in  Viterbo.  Sacchetti  himself  did  not  believe  in  the 
possibility  of  Ugo's  death  being  due  to  any  but  purely  natural 
causes.  But  of  course  Sacchetti  was  obliged  to  protect  his  own 
reputation ;  and  his  suggestion  that  an  autopsia  should  be  held 
was  a  perfectly  reasonable  suggestion.  How  could  Cristina  have 
been  so  mistaken  as  to  oppose  it  ?  To  be  sure,  as  Sacchetti  had 
confessed,  he  had  not  ventured  even  to  hint  to  her  his  real 
motive  for  demanding  her  consent  to  making  an  examination — 
he  had  preferred  to  leave  this  painful  task  to  him,  Fabrizio,  who 
was  now  Ugo's  legal  representative  and  the  head  of  a  family 
consisting  only  of  himself.  It  was  incredible  to  suppose  that,  had 
Cristina  guessed  the  doctor's  real  motive,  she  would  not  at  once 
have  given  way,  and  have  insisted  on  a  full  investigation  being 
made  which  should  for  ever  silence  all  malicious  insinuations. 
No — that  could  not  be  the  evil  he  was  dreading  ! 

Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  Cristina  herself  he  was  dreading.  It 
had  all  been  different  a  few  hours  ago.  Then  he  was  merely  in 
the  position  of  hundreds,  of  thousands  of  other  men — the  lover 
of  another  man's  wife.  The  matter  had  seemed  to  him  to  be 
exceeding  simple — of  an  everyday  simplicity.  What  was  it,  he 
asked  himself,  that  had  altered  the  whole  aspect  of  his  position — 


328  TEMPTATION 

his  and  Cristina's?  Was  it  that  the  presence  of  death  stood 
between  them  ?  Fabrizio  remembered  with  a  shudder  how  he  and 
Cristina  had  discussed  even  this  contingency,  and  that  she  had  ex- 
tracted from  him  a  promise  of  what  he  would  do  should  it  ever  occur. 

It  was  true  that  he  had  always  shrunk  from  allowing  his  mind 
to  dwell  upon  the  chances  of  his  cousin's  death.  He  remembered 
now  the  frequency  with  which  Cristina  would  remind  him  that, 
should  any  fatality  occur  to  Ugo,  he  would  step  into  Ugo's  shoes. 
Sometimes  it  had  seemed  that  she  took  a  kind  of  malicious 
pleasure  in  recalling  the  fact  to  him.  In  the  earlier  days  of  their 
acquaintance,  Fabrizio  had  wondered  whether  his  cousin's  wife 
was  not  attempting  to  discover  to  what  extent  he  might  be 
calculating  upon  his  chances  of  becoming  Count  Vitali  and 
owner  of  the  Vitali  estates.  But  it  was  one  thing  to  discuss  a 
remote  contingency,  and  quite  another  thing  to  find  this  con- 
tingency suddenly  turned  into  an  accomplished  fact.  The 
thought  that  Ugo  was  lying  dead  only  a  few  rooms  away  from 
him  was  almost  unbearable  to  Fabrizio  in  his  present  frame  of 
mind.  He  felt  as  though  he  were  in  some  way  guilty  of  Ugo's 
death — that  idle  thoughts  in  the  past  had  borne  a  terrible 
fruition. 

The  lawyer  and  Professor  Sachetti  had  left  him  alone  as  soon 
as  breakfast  was  concluded ;  the  professor  saying  that  he  would 
return  to  Palazzo  Vitali  before  four  o'clock  in  order  to  learn  the 
result  of  Fabrizio's  interview  with  Countess  VitaU.  In  a  few 
minutes  Taddeo  would  probably  come  to  announce  that  Cristina 
was  ready  to  receive  him,  and  Fabrizio  watched  the  hands  of 
a  clock  as  they  travelled  steadily  and  inexorably  towards  the 
appointed  hour.  Whatever  happened,  he  told  himself,  he  must 
be  firm  in  supporting  Sacchetti's  suggestion.  Cristina  surely 
would  see  the  necessity  for  at  once  allowing  the  doctor  to  have 
his  way.  But  how  could  he  tell  her  of  this  ridiculous  idea 
that  had  got  abroad  in  Viterbo,  in  the  truth  of  which  apparently 
even  Taddeo  and  the  servants  had  some  belief,  or  pretended 
that  they  had  so  ?  Sacchetti  had  hinted  that  the  rumour  had  its 
origin  in  the  hostility  of  her  husband's  people  to  Countess  Vitali. 
He,  Fabrizio,  was  quite  well  aware  of  Cristina's  unpopularity  in 


TEMPTATION  329 

and  around  Viterbo.  She  had  never  taken  the  trouble  to  conceal 
that  she  was  aware  of  it  herself.  He  knew,  too,  that  gossip  had 
coupled  his  name  with  hers.  The  anonymous  letter  Ugo  had 
received  was  a  proof  that  this  had  been  the  case. 

By  degrees  Fabrizio  was  beginning  to  be  able  to  reason  more 
clearly.  No  doubt,  he  thought,  as  he  paced  up  and  down  the 
room  waiting  for  the  moment  when  he  should  have  to  go  to 
Cristina,  this  abominable  rumour  had  been  spread  by  those  who 
had  detected,  or  believed  they  had  detected,  the  relations  between 
him  and  his  cousin's  wife.  He  knew  well  how  eagerly  even 
the  most  unlikely  tales  were  believed  by  the  lower  classes.  The 
people,  Ugo's  people,  would  know  that  he  was  the  gainer  by  his 
cousin's  death ;  and  if  they  believed  in  a  love-intrigue  between 
him  and  Countess  Vitali,  it  would  need  little  imagination  to 
carry  that  belief  still  further  and  suspect  Count  Vitali's  death  to 
have  been  brought  about  by  unnatural  means  and  not  from 
results  due  to  his  accident. 

Who  could  tell  whether  Sacchetti  and  the  lawyer  were  not 
aware  that  this  was  what  the  Viterbesi  were  in  reality  saying? 
Fabrizio  had  noticed  the  look  of  relief  on  both  Sacchetti's  and 
the  lawyer's  faces  when  he  had  at  once  declared  his  intention  of 
imploring  Countess  Vitali  to  fall  in  with  the  doctor's  wishes.  He 
had  been  conscious  that  Professor  Sacchetti  had  been  watching 
him  narrowly,  most  likely  suspiciously.  Notwithstanding  the 
suavity  of  the  professor's  words,  and  the  courtesy  of  his  manner, 
the  covert  warning  which  had  underlain  both  had  not  been  lost 
on  Fabrizio.  A  single  word  of  doubt  from  the  doctor  who  had 
attended  Ugo,  a  refusal  to  give  to  the  authorities  the  necessary 
certificate  as  to  the  causes  of  death,  and  no  objections  on 
Cristina's  part  would  have  any  other  result  than  that  of  increasing 
existing  suspicions.  Yes  ;  he  must  explain  this  to  her,  and  point 
out  to  her  tliat  only  by  allowing  Sacchetti  full  liberty  to  make  his 
examination  could  she  silence  rumours  which,  if  not  proved  to  be 
utterly  groundless,  would  place  both  her  and  himself  in  a  terrible 
position.  Moreover,  he  must  show  her  that  she  was  powerless  to 
stop  Sacchetti,  if  he  really  intended  to  hold  an  aulopsia,  and  that 
he   did   intcuJ   to   do   so   Fabrizio  was  convinced.     Naturally 


330  TEMPTATION 

Cristina  could  have  no  real  objections,  why  should  she  have 
them  ?  Probably  she  had  only  regarded  Sacchetti's  proposal  as 
unnecessary,  and,  of  course,  painful.  But  then  Sacchetti  had  not 
told  her  all  the  truth 

In  the  midst  of  Fabrizio's  reflections  Taddeo  entered  the  room. 

"  The  signora  contessa  would  be  pleased  if  the  signor  conte 
would  join  her  in  the  gallery,"  he  said. 

Fabrizio  started  violently.  His  back  had  been  turned  to  the 
door,  and  he  had  not  heard  the  man  come  in. 

"Tell  her  that  I  will  come  immediately,"  he  said. 

Taddeo  lingered  for  a  moment.  He  looked  curiously  at 
Fabrizio,  and  seemed  as  though  he  wished  to  speak  but  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  do  so.  Something  in  his  attitude  irritated 
Fabrizio's  already  highly-strung  nerves.  As  he  had  told  Professor 
Sacchetti,  he  did  not  intend  to  have  any  discussion  with  Taddeo 
before  he  had  spoken  with  Cristina. 

"  Kindly  take  my  message  at  once  to  the  signora  contessa,"  he 
said  quickly.  "  In  a  few  minutes  I  will  come  into  the  gallery. 
You  need  not  return.     I  shall  follow  you." 

Taddeo  went  from  the  room  without  a  word.  There  was 
something  in  Fabrizio's  manner  which  effectually  checked  his 
desire  to  speak.  Even  at  that  moment  Fabrizio  found  himself 
wondering  bitterly  why  life  seemed  altogether  changed.  What 
was  this  thing  that  had  arisen  between  Cristina  and  himself?  It 
was  not  that  he  did  not  love  her  any  more.  Even  then,  as  he 
thought  of  her,  his  pulses  quickened.  But  something  lay  between 
them  ;  that  mysterious,  oppressive  sense  of  threatening  evil  from 
which  he  could  not  free  himself.  Yes,  it  was  that,  and  that  only ; 
not  Death,  keeping  his  Court  so  close  to  them ;  not  even  this 
odious  suspicion  that  Death  had  not  entered  of  his  own  will, — for 
in  a  few  hours,  when  Sacchetti's  examination  had  been  made, 
nobody  would  ever  dare  again  to  breathe  so  foul  a  rumour.  If 
only  he  could  put  into  definite  form  this  evil  which  haunted 
him !  at  least  it  would  then  be  easier  to  grapple  with  it  and 
fight  it. 

Strange !  a  few  days  ago  he  would  have  hastened  to  Cristina's 
side.      How  many  opportunities  of  meeting  had  they  not  planned 


TEMPTATION  331 

together,  opportunities  when  Ugo  was  away  and  the  servants  busy 
with  their  various  occupations  in  distant  parts  of  the  palazzo? 
And  now,  he  wished  that  he  and  Cristina  were  a  thousand  miles 
apart,  and  that  they  were  not  going  to  meet  again  until  this 
haunting  fear  had  left  him. 

Well,  as  Sacchetti  had  significantly  observed,  time  pressed ! 
The  dead  was  waiting  ;  and,  what  was  of  even  more  importance, 
the  living  were  waiting,  to  be  cleared  from  all  suspicion,  however 
unwarrantable  and  absurd,  of  a  monstrous  crime.  Summoning 
up  all  his  resolution,  Fabrizio  left  the  room  and  bent  his  steps 
towards  the  gallery. 

At  first,  in  the  subdued  light,  the  long  apartment  seemed  to  be 
empty.  It  was  only  after  he  had  advanced  a  few  paces  into  the 
room  that  Fabrizio  saw  Countess  Vitali  standing  at  its  further  end, 
beneath  the  portrait  of  Donna  Giulia.  She  was  dressed  in  black ; 
and  as  he  drew  nearer  to  her  Fabrizio  saw  that  her  face  was  very 
pale,  but  that  on  each  cheek  there  glowed  a  feverish  patch  of  red. 

She  came  forward  a  few  steps  to  meet  him,  and  then  they  stood 
looking  at  one  another  in  silence. 

"  Cristina !  "  exclaimed  Fabrizio,  as  the  silence  became  intoler- 
able, "  I  came  at  once,  as  soon  as  I  could  get  a  train.  It  is 
horrible — horrible  !  Who  could  have  thought  that  it  would  end 
like  this  !     Certainly  not  Sacchetti — he " 

"  Sacchetti  has  been  mistaken  throughout,"  Cristina  interrupted, 
in  dry,  level  tones.  "He  should  have  had  another  opinion. 
Yes — it  is — a  terrible  shock,  because  at  the  last  it  was  sudden, 
Fabrizio — very  sudden!  Sicuro !  I  blame  Sacchetti;  but  the 
best  of  doctors  can  make  a  mistake  sometimes.  After  all, 
Sacchetti  warned  us  from  the  first  that  some  dangerous  com- 
plication might  arise." 

She  spoke  slowly  and  calmly,  as  though  measuring  her  words ; 
and  all  the  time  she  was  speaking  her  eyes  never  left  Fabrizio's 
face.  It  was  in  her  eyes  that  Fabrizio  read  a  feverish  anxiety  that 
belied  the  calmness  of  her  manner. 

"  It  is  horrible  ! "  he  repeated.  "  I  would  give  everything — 
everything,  that  Ugo  were  still  with  us ! " 

"  Everything,  Fabrizio  ?  " 


332  TEMPTATION 

Cristina's  voice  had  changed  suddenly,  but  Fabrizio  scarcely 
noticed  the  imploring  tone  now  ringing  in  it. 

"  It  would  have  been  different  had  it  been  an  illness,"  he 
continued,  "but  to  be  struck  down  like  that — in  full  health  and 
life " 

"But  Sacchetti  warned  us,"  insisted  Cristina;  "you  must 
always  remember  that  he  warned  us.  And  it  was  not  really  so 
very  sudden,  Fabrizio.  There  were  symptoms  which  Sacchetti 
did  not  like.  He  told  me  so,  but  I  thought  they  would  pass,  and 
so  I  did  not  telegraph  to  you  until — until  Ugo  was  suddenly 
seized  with  violent  cramps,  and  then  he  became  unconscious. 
He  was  unconscious  till — till  the  end.  Fabrizio !  why  do  you 
look  at  me  hke  that  ?  Of  course  I  am  sorry — shocked — but  can 
I  be  more  than  that?  You  know  that  I  cannot !  with  you  I  will 
not  be  hypocritical  enough  to  play  at  it.  With  others,  it  is 
a  different  thing ! " 

"Yes — with  others,"  repeated  Fabrizio.  "You  are  right, 
Cristina — quite  right !  For  God's  sake  let  us  think  of  nothing 
now  but  how  we  have  to  conduct  ourselves  before  others  !  That 
is  why  I  sent  to  ask  you  to  receive  me  without  delay." 

Cristina  started,  and  her  face  became  paler  than  ever. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked  quickly.  "  Of  course  I  shall 
do  all  that  a  woman  in  my  position  is  expected  to  do.  I  must  do 
it — for  your  sake  and  my  own  !     Afterwards " 

"  We  cannot  think  of  the  afterwards  ! "  interrupted  Fabrizio 
abruptly.  "  We  have  to  think  of  the  present — to  protect  ourselves 
against  an  unnameable  suspicion " 

Cristina  turned  upon  him  almost  fiercely. 

"  What  do  suspicions  signify  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Do  we  not 
know  that  we  have  been  suspected?  Ugo  had  that  letter,  you 
remember.  What  happened  this  morning  has  freed  us  from  all 
danger  of  those  suspicions,  as  you  call  them,  being  able  to  hurt 
us.  Now  that  it  is  no  longer  possible  to  make  a  scandal,  people 
will  soon  forget  their  suspicions,  and  even  if  they  remember  them 
— afterwards — what  does  it  matter  ?  " 

"It  is  not  that,"  returned  Fabrizio  eagerly.  "You  do  not 
understand,  Cristina,  because  Sacchetti  did  not  explain  things  to 


TEMPTATION  333 

you.  But  I  must  explain  them ;  and  you  must  be  guided 
by  me." 

Cristina  looked  at  him  quickly,  with  a  rapid,  furtive  glance. 

"What  did  Sacchetti  not  explain?"  she  asked  hastily. 

Fabrizio  drew  nearer  to  her  and  led  her  to  a  chair.  "You 
must  sit  down,"  he  said  gently,  "  and  let  me  talk  to  you.  I  shall 
have  to  say  things  that  are  painful,  but  when  you  have  heard 
them,  you  will  understand  better ;  and  you  will  allow  Sacchetti  to 
do  what  he  wants." 

Cristina  tore  herself  away  from  him. 

"  Ah  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  So  Sacchetti  has  told  you  of  the  pro- 
position he  made  to  me  !  But  it  is  horrible,  Fabrizio,  and  I  will 
never  give  my  consent — never !  Besides,  Sacchetti  has  no  right 
to  ask  it." 

"  He  has  every  right,"  said  Fabrizio  quietly.  "  Moreover,  if 
he  chooses  to  insist  upon  it,  neither  your  objections  nor  mine 
would  carry  the  least  weight.  Listen,  Cristina  !  there  is  a  rumour 
about  among  the  people  that  Ugo's  death  was  not  a  natural  death. 
We  know,  of  course,  and  Sacchetti  knows  that  this  is  nonsense. 
But  a  report  of  that  kind  once  started  is  a  very  disagreeable 
thing,  the  more  so  as  Ugo  was  not  expected  to  die,  either  by 
Sacchetti  or  by  anybody  else.  Do  you  not  see  now  that  it  is  our 
duty,  yours  and  mine,  to  insist  upon  Sacchetti's  holding  an  autopsia, 
in  order  that  he  may  be  able  once  for  all  to  put  an  end  to  such  a 
monstrous  idea?" 

"  I  see  nothing  of  the  kind  ! "  answered  Cristina  angrily.  "  I 
see  that  Sacchetti  realises  that  he  has  made  a  grave  mistake  in  not 
having  discovered  the  real  nature  of  Ugo's  injuries,  but  I  refuse  to 
allow  an  examination  to  be  made  merely  to  enable  him  to  justify 
himself.  It  is  useless,  Fabrizio — I  tell  you  that  I  will  never 
consent ! " 

"  But  you  must  consent ! "  exclaimed  Fabrizio.  "  Cannot  you 
understand?  you  must.  More  than  that,  you  must  send  for 
Sacchetti  and  tell  him  it  is  your  wish — and  mine  as  Ugo's  repre- 
sentative— that  an  autopsia  should  be  made.  If  you  oppose  him, 
he  will  refuse  to  give  his  certificate  of  death ;  and  these  abominable 
reports  will  be  believed.     People  will  say  that  you,  that  we,  have 


334  TEMPTATION 

some  horrible  reason  for  wishing  to  conceal  the  cause  of  Ugo's 
death.  Cristina,  for  the  love  of  God  be  reasonable  !  You  cannot 
withhold  your  consent,  now  that  you  know  what  is  being  said. 
It  does  not  matter  at  all  that  this  story  is  the  gossip  of  the  basso 
popolo.  If  we  are  supposed  to  have  placed  any  difficulties  in 
Sacchetti's  way,  everybody  will  continue  to  suspect  us,  and  all 
the  more  because  they  already  suspect  us  of — of  other  things. 
Cristina !  per  carita,  do  not  look  like  that !  What  are  you  look- 
ing at  ?  " 

Fabrizio  broke  off  with  a  cry  of  horror.  Cristina's  gaze  was 
fixed  on  the  portrait  of  Donna  Giulia.  Her  eyes  seemed  as 
though  they  were  being  drawn  from  their  sockets,  and  her  features 
twitched  convulsively. 

"  Cristina  ! "  he  exclaimed  again.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  For 
God's  sake  do  not  stare  at  that  cursed  picture — but  answer  me ! 
Why  should  not  Sacchetti  do  as  he  wishes?  What  possible 
difference  can  it  make  to  you — now?  You  must  consent,  I  tell 
you,  for  your  own  sake  and  for  mine  !     Cristina — oh,  my  God  ! " 

Fabrizio  started  back  horror-stricken,  his  hands  clasped  to  his 
head.  Countess  Vitali  had  withdrawn  her  gaze  from  the  picture, 
and  from  her  lips  came  laughter — the  laughter  he  had  again  heard 
in  his  dream  the  night  before,  and  of  which  he  fancied  he  had 
caught  the  faint  echo  a  short  time  ago  when  talking  with  Professor 
Sacchetti. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh  ?  "  he  cried  again.  "  My  God,  why  do  you 
laugh— like  that  ?  " 

Cristina  turned  her  eyes  towards  him.  The  drawn  expression 
had  vanished  from  them,  and  they  were  cold  and  lustreless. 

"  Are  you  mad,  Fabrizio  ? "  she  said,  in  a  dulled,  monotonous 
voice.  "  Why  should  I  laugh  ?  because  Ugo  is  dead,  perhaps  ? 
Ah,  but  now  I  am  free,  and  belong  to  you,  my  beloved !  Did  I 
laugh?  Well,  if  I  did,  it  is  better  to  laugh  than  to  cry,  is  it  not? 
Crying  is  for  the  San  Felice  to-day ;  but  not  for  us,  Fabrizio  mio, 
not  for  us  ! " 

"Cristina,  taci,  per  piet^,  taci !  Do  you  want  to  make  me  hate 
you  ?  Is  it  I  who  am  mad  and  hear  you  say  things  you  do  not 
say — laugh,  when  you  do  not  laugh  ?  " 


TEMPTATION  335 

"And  you  have  come  back,  not  as  guest  but  as  master," 
continued  Cristina,  without  heeding  him.  "  Ugo  is  dead,  and 
you  are  Count  Vitali.  The  house  and  the  lands  are  yours. 
Filippi  told  you,  did  he  not  ?  And  afterwards,  I  shall  be  yours 
too,  more  yours  than  ever,  Fabrizio  !  Only,  we  shall  have  to  wait 
a  little  ;  a  year,  perhaps.  But  it  will  only  be  a  pretence  of  waiting. 
A  few  days  ago  we  knew  that  we  could  not  wait  any  longer,  amore 
mio,  and " 

"Cristina!" 

She  glanced  at  him ;  struck,  perhaps,  by  the  note  of  agony  in 
his  voice.  And,  indeed,  Fabrizio  Vitali  was  gazing  at  her  with  an 
expression  of  horror  on  his  countenance  that  he  was  powerless  to 
conceal.  With  a  visible  effort  Countess  Vitali  seemed  to  force 
herself  into  a  more  natural  mood.  She  passed  her  hand  across 
her  eyes  with  a  gesture  of  weariness,  and  when  she  spoke  again 
it  was  in  a  voice  more  like  her  own. 

"  Povero  Fabrizio  mio  ! "  she  said  softly.  "  You  must  forgive 
me,  but  I  am  scarcely  myself  to-day.  And  I  am  tired,  too,  oh, 
so  tired !  I  should  like  to  sleep  for  a  year.  What  were  you 
saying  just  now  ?  I  forget.  Ah,  about  Sacchetti  and  his  horrible 
suggestion.  Do  not  let  us  think  of  it  again.  You  must  tell  him 
that  I  will  never  consent  to  it.  The  canaglia  in  Viterbo  can 
say  and  think  what  it  chooses.  What  does  it  matter  to  you  or 
to  me  what  people  say?" 

Fabrizio  looked  at  her  in  despair. 

'*  I  dare  not  tell  Sacchetti  that,"  he  said.  "  Cristina  mia,"  he 
added,  "now  you  are  like  yourself  again.  A  moment  ago  you 
were  not  yourself.  Your  words,  your  thoughts,  your  voice  even, 
were  as  if  they  were  not  your  own.  You  are  nervous,  upset  by 
all  you  have  had  to  go  through  during  the  past  few  days.  But 
you  must  be  sensible,  carissima.  You  must  agree  to  Sacchetti's 
wishes,  however  painful  it  may  be  for  you  to  do  so.  Besides,  as 
I  have  already  explained  to  you,  we  have  no  choice  but  to  agree. 
Sacchetti  is  quite  aware  that  we  are  in  his  power.  He  asked  for 
your  consent  as  a  mere  formality,  an  act  of  delicacy ;  and  he  asked 
for  mine  as  representing  the  family." 

"  And  you  gave  it  ?  "  asked  Cristina  quickly. 


336  TEMPTATION 

"  Of  course  I  gave  it !  Why  should  I  not  have  done  so?  And 
you  must  give  yours,  Cristina ;  you  must  tell  Sacchetti  that,  had 
you  known  what  I  have  since  told  you,  you  would  never  have 
opposed  his  wish  for  an  autopsia.  He  is  to  return  at  four  o'clock, 
nominally  to  learn  your  decision.  In  reality,  of  course,  he  will 
come  prepared  to  carry  out  his  examination  whether  you  wish  it 
or  not." 

"  He  has  threatened  that  ?  " 

"  Practically — yes.  He  did  not  actually  say  so ;  but  he  made 
his  meaning  clear,  nevertheless.  Via,  Cristina,  you  can  have  no 
serious  objection,  any  more  than  I  can  have  one !  It  is  absurd, 
and  worse  than  absurd,  for  you  to  oppose  it.  Moreover,  you  have 
never  told  me  why  you  object." 

Cristina  was  silent.     Fabrizio  watched  her  anxiously. 

"  I  quite  understand  how  painful  the  idea  must  be  to  you,"  he 
continued  gently,  "  but,  indeed,  we  have  no  choice.  We  cannot 
allow  anybody  to  suspect  us  of  some  hidden  reason  for  having 
opposed  Sacchetti's  wishes.  Unfortunately,  too,  it  is  not  only 
among  the  basso  popolo  in  Viterbo  that  this  horrible  idea  has 
circulated.     Even  Taddeo  seems  to  be  suspicious." 

"Taddeo  ! "  exclaimed  Countess  Vitali. 

"  So  Sacchetti  told  me." 

Again  Cristina  relapsed  into  silence.  Fabrizio  saw,  however, 
that  she  was  strangely  agitated.  She  began  to  walk  restlessly  up 
and  down  the  gallery,  and  her  face  bore  upon  it  the  signs  of  a 
terrible  mental  struggle.  Fabrizio's  heart  sank  within  him  as  he 
watched  her,  and  gradually  a  doubt  stole  into  his  mind  from 
which  he  recoiled  with  a  feeling  akin  to  terror.  Why  could  she 
not  understand — he  asked  himself — now  that  she  knew  all,  what 
could  her  reason  be  for  hesitating?  Suddenly,  that  vague  sense 
of  evil,  the  exact  nature  of  which  a  short  time  ago  he  had  longed 
to  be  able  to  define,  seemed  as  it  were  to  materialise  itself  in 
his  mind.  He  knew  now  what  it  was  he  had  dreaded.  He 
tried  to  wrestle  with  his  doubt  as  though  it  were  some  tangible 
thing — some  Being  which  he  could  overthrow  and  cast  out  of  his 
path.  But  the  thing  closed  with  him,  grappled  with  him — 
vanquished  him. 


TEMPTATION  337 

He  was  conscious  that  Cristina  was  watching  him  narrowly, 
earnestly,  with  that  terrible  look  of  anxiety  always  in  her  eyes. 
The  sweat  broke  out  on  his  forehead  again,  as  it  had  done 
when  Professor  Sacchetti  had  told  him  what  was  being  said  in 
Viterbo. 

"  Cristina !  "  he  cried.  "  Cristina — you  still  hesitate  ?  You 
must  be  mad  to  hesitate  any  longer.  Surely  you  understand 
everything  now !  Sacchetti  must  make  the  examination — he 
must,  I  tell  you.  I  shall  insist  upon  his  doing  so,  even  against 
your  wishes — for  afterwards  you  will  see  that  I  was  right,  and  you 
will  thank  me.  Why  do  you  not  answer  ?  why  do  you  not  say  at 
once  that  neither  you  nor  I  have  anything  to  fear?" 

Cristina  drew  nearer  to  him.  "You  will  insist?"  she  said  in 
a  low  voice.  "You  will  allow  Sacchetti  to  make  his  examina- 
tion? Well,  you  are  within  your  right.  Did  I  not  tell  you 
that  you  had  returned  as  master  here?  Only,  you  do  not 
understand — that  is  all.     You  have  never  understood." 

"  Understood — what  ?  "  asked  Fabrizio.  His  brain  was  reeling, 
and  he  was  scarcely  conscious  of  what  he  said.  Surely  the  evil 
was  very  near  to  him  now — and  he  was  fighting,  fighting  as 
though  for  his  life  here  and  hereafter,  if  there  was  a  hereafter. 

"  That  I  have  loved  you  !  " 

Fabrizio  laughed  aloud.  "Love?  "he  said.  "I  do  not  want 
to  hear  about  that — now !  I  want  to  save  our  honour — yours 
and  mine.  We  can  talk  of  love  afterwards.  Only,  for  God's 
sake,  speak.  Tell  me  that  you  do  not  oppose  Sacchetti  because 
— because  you  are  afraid.  Why  should  you  be  afraid,  Cristina — 
why?" 

Cristina  looked  at  him  intently,  as  though  trying  to  read  his 
very  soul. 

"  It  is  true,"  she  said  quietly.     "  I  am  afraid." 

Fabrizio  gave  a  low  cry  of  horror  and  dismay. 

"  You  talk  of  saving  our  honour,"  Cristina  continued  in  dry, 
quick  tones,  "  but  you  must  save  me,  me,  Fabrizio  !  If  Sacchetti 
insists  on  an  autopsia,  I  am  lost.  It  is  better  that  you  should 
know  it.  You  must  prevent  it — do  you  understand  ?  At  all 
costs  you  must  prevent  it ! " 
y 


S38  TEMPTATION 

Fabrizio  started  away  from  her  with  a  gesture  of  aversion  and 
horror. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked  hoarsely.  "  Do  you  know 
what  your  words  imply?  Ugo  is  dead — and  you  are  afraid  that  it 
should  be  known  how  he  died  !  Ah,"  he  added  quickly,  conscious 
that  he  was  fighting  desperately  to  the  end,  "forgive  me,  forgive 
me,  Cristina  mia — I  cannot  understand  yet — and  I  have  horrible 
thoughts.  You  need  not  be  afraid.  It  will  be  a  mere  formality 
— to  satisfy  Sacchetti,  and  to  enable  him  to  tell  people  the 
truth " 

"  Ah,  no,  no  !  You  must  prevent  it,  Fabrizio,  otherwise — 
Listen,"  Cristina  continued,  in  low,  passionate  tones.  "  I  killed 
him — killed  him,  Fabrizio,  because  I  love  you.  Why  should  I 
not  tell  you,  since  it  was  for  your  sake  that  I  did  it.  Sacchetti 
had  made  no  mistake.  Ugo  was  getting  well — and  when  I  knew 
that  he  must  get  well,  I  gave  him  the  morfina.  But  1  dared  not 
delay  too  long,  lest  Sacchetti  should  suspect — and  yesterday  I 
gave  in  the  twelve  hours  the  quantity  which  should  have  been 
distributed  over  three  days.  That  is  why  I  am  afraid.  Sacchetti 
will  certainly  find  traces  of  so  large  a  dose " 

Fabrizio  gazed  at  her  in  speechless  amazement.  Not  a  sign  of 
remorse  or  pity  could  be  detected  in  her  manner  or  her  words, 
and  still  less  any  sense  of  horror;  only  fear  of  discovery,  and 
perhaps  regret  at  having  risked  discovery  by  being  too  precipitate 
in  the  accomplishment  of  her  crime.  Even  in  that  terrible 
moment  Fabrizio  found  himself  marvelling  at  the  complete 
absence  of  moral  sense  in  the  woman  with  whom  he  had  believed 
himself  to  be  in  love.  She  was  not  a  woman,  nor  even  human, 
he  told  himself  shudderingly — only  a  beautiful  animal. 

Cristina  paused,  but  presently  Fabrizio  heard  her  words  coming 
to  him  as  though  spoken  at  a  great  distance,  or  in  a  dream. 
They  were  terrible  words — he  felt  that ;  but  he  felt  too,  that  he 
had  no  power  to  check  them.  His  brain  and  his  mind  alike 
seemed  to  be  numbed  and  paralysed. 

"  I  hated  him  always,"  he  heard  her  saying,  "  but  latterly,  for 
your  sake,  I  made  him  believe  I  loved  him.  That  was  terrible, 
for  I  had  to  endure  his  passion,  and  his  passion  turned  my  hate 


TEMPTATION  339 

into  loathing.  Then  came  his  accident,  and  with  it  the 
opportunity  to  carry  out  what  I  intended  to  do.  Sacchetti 
prescribed  injections  of  morfina.  I  bought  morfina — you  told 
me  it  was  easy  to  buy  it,  Fabrizio — and  I  gave  it  to  Ugo 
repeatedly,  in  his  food  and  drink.  So,  unknown  to  Sacchetti, 
Ugo  was  daily  taking  far  more  than  the  quantity  prescribed. 
But  I  made  a  mistake  in  giving  the  morfina  too  frequently 
during  the  last  two  days — for  Sacchetti  frightened  me.  He  told 
me  that  the  time  was  all  but  passed  when  complications  might 
have  been  expected,  and  that  Ugo  would  almost  certainly  be 
well  before  long.  Do  you  understand,  Fabrizio  ?  I  hated  Ugo, 
and  we,  you  and  I,  had  often  talked  together  of  how  much 
more  fitted  you  were  to  be  Count  Vitali,  and  owner  of  money  and 
lands.  Well,  you  are  all  that  now — and  my  love  has  given  them 
to  you.  And  you  will  save  me,  will  you  not,  Fabrizio  ?  You 
will  prevent  the  autopsia.  Perhaps  Ugo  would  have  died  in  any 
case — but  I  could  not  wait.  I  wanted  to  feel  that  I  had  put  you 
in  his  place " 

"  Disgraziata  /" 

Cristina  started.  "  Fabrizio  ! "  she  cried.  "  Why  do  you  look 
at  me  like  that — as  if  you  hated  me  ?  Have  I  not  risked  every- 
thing because  of  my  love  for  you  ?  I  never  meant  to  tell  you 
that  I  killed  Ugo.  If  I  had  been  more  careful,  nobody  would 
ever  have  guessed  the  truth.  Even  an  autopsia  would  not  have 
revealed  it.  But  I  could  not  wait — that  was  my  folly.  We  must 
think — think  what  we  can  do  to  induce  Sacchetti  to  give  up  his 
idea — must  we  not  ?  " 

She  put  her  hands  on  Fabrizio's  arm  as  she  said  these  words, 
but  with  an  exclamation  of  horror  and  disgust  he  flung  them 
away. 

"Do  not  touch  me,"  he  muttered,  "do  not  dare  to  touch  me! 
You  are  right — I  hate  you — hate  you,  do  you  understand  ?  You 
are  a  double  murderess,  for  you  have  taken  your  husband's  life 
and  you  have  killed  my  honour.  You  have  made  me  an  assassin 
like  yourself." 

Cristina  drew  back  suddenly,  and  stood  before  him  rigid  and 
white  as  marble.     A  long  silence  fell  between  them,  and   the 


340  TEMPTATION 

portrait  of  Donna  Giulia  looked  down  upon  them,  smiling 
always,  but  sneering  as  it  smiled. 

Suddenly  Fabrizio  broke  the  silence,  speaking  to  himself.  He 
seemed  neither  to  see  nor  to  heed  Cristina.  "  I  must  think,"  he 
muttered.  "  I  must  think,  before  my  brain  gives  way  and  I  go 
mad ! " 

The  clock  on  the  garden  fagade  of  Palazzo  Vitali  struck  three. 
The  sound  seemed  to  re-echo  through  the  silent  gallery  and 
roused  Fabrizio  as  if  from  a  lethargy. 

"  It  is  three  o'clock,"  he  said,  raising  his  eyes  to  Cristina's  face. 
"  At  four  o'clock  Sacchetti  will  be  here  for  his  answer." 

Countess  Vitali  met  his  gaze  steadily,  almost  indifferently. 
"  You  stand  in  Ugo's  place,"  she  said  coldly.  "  It  is  for  you  to 
give  Sacchetti  his  answer.  As  you  have  told  me  that  you  hate 
me,  I  suppose  you  will  allow  him  to  perform  the  autopsia." 

"  Yes — I  shall  do  more  than  allow  it ;  I  shall  insist  upon  its 
being  performed,"  replied  Fabrizio  calmly.  *'  But  I  shall  do  no 
more  than  that,"  he  added.  "  By  the  result  of  Sacchetti's 
examination  you  shall  be  judged — but  not  by  me.  If  Sacchetti 
finds  proofs  of  poisoning  by  morfina,  an  enquiry  will  be  held.  So 
long  as  you  can  clear  yourself  from  suspicion  without  that 
suspicion  falling  on  some  innocent  person,  I  shall  keep  silence — for 
I  am  as  guilty  as  you,  Cristina.  Only,  when  I  leave  this  room,  I 
shall  never  willingly  see  you  again." 

As  he  spoke,  Fabrizio  Vitali  was  astonished  at  his  own  calm- 
ness. The  evil  which  he  had  felt  to  be  haunting  him  had  unveiled 
itself,  and  the  very  horror  of  it  seemed  to  lend  him  temporary 
strength.  The  oppression  of  its  presence  had  been  lifted,  to  be 
succeeded  by  a  sense  of  personal  guilt.  When  he  had  told 
Cristina  that  he  was  as  guilty  as  she,  he  had  spoken  what  he  felt 
to  be  the  truth,  a  truth  which  would  be  with  him  until  the  day  of 
his  death. 

Countess  Vitali  listened  to  him  in  silence,  and  when  he  had 
ceased  speaking  she  moved  a  step  or  two  towards  him. 

"It  is  three  o'clock,  Fabrizio,"  she  said  quietly,  "and  at  four 
o'clock  Sacchetti  comes  for  his  answer,  is  it  not  so?  Well,  that 
is  only  an  hour.     I  am  going  to  my  room  now ;  but,  in  an  hour's 


TEMPTATION  341 

time,  at  four  o'clock,  I  will  be  here  again — on  this  spot.  Before 
you  see  Sacchetti,  will  you  return  here  and  see  me  once  again? 
I — I  shall  have  something  further  to  tell  you,  and  I  think  you 
will  not  refuse  to  come — once  more — to  me.  Then  you  can  take 
my  answer  to  Sacchetti.  It  will  be  as  well  he  should  know  that 
I  have  no  reason  any  longer  to  oppose  his  wishes,  will  it  not  ? 
You  will  grant  my  request,  Fabrizio;  you  will  promise  me  that 
you  will  come — here,  at  four  o'clock.  You  will  find  me  sitting 
under  Donna  GiuHa's  picture." 

"  I  will  come,"  replied  Fabrizio  briefly. 

"  That  is  well.  Until  then  I  have  much  to  do — "  Her  voice 
broke  suddenly.  "Fabrizio!"  she  exclaimed,  "before  God,  I 
loved  you — I  love  always  !  and  what  I  have  done,  I  have  done  for 
love  of  you." 

She  waited  for  a  moment,  and  looked  at  Fabrizio  wistfully,  but 
he  neither  moved  nor  answered.  Then  she  slowly  went  from  the 
gallery,  leaving  him  alone. 

How  long  he  remained  there,  Fabrizio  never  knew.  The 
shock  he  had  received  had  left  him  scarcely  capable  of  consecutive 
thought.  With  that  strange  wandering  of  the  mind  that  almost 
invariably  accompanies  a  crushing  blow  or  a  great  sorrow,  his 
attention  fixed  itself  on  trifling  details  around  him.  He  found 
himself  wondering  why  he  had  never  before  noticed  that  the 
damask  of  the  window  curtains  in  the  gallery  was  of  an  entirely 
different  texture  and  design  from  the  damask  hangings  on  the 
walls,  and  that  more  than  one  of  the  pictures  was  badly  damaged. 
Then  his  glance  fell  upon  the  portrait  of  Donna  Giulia  and  he 
turned  away  hastily.  He  dreaded  lest  he  should  again  hear  the 
laugh  ringing  in  his  ears.  It  was  not  any  longer  a  laugh  heard  in 
a  dream.  He  had  reaUy  heard  it — nay,  it  was  as  though  he  had 
seen  it — issuing  from  Cristina's  lips  only  a  few  minutes  ago,  the 
lips  he  had  kissed  so  passionately,  the  lips  of  a  murderess.  He 
could  not,  would  not  remain  alone  in  the  gallery,  alone  with 
Donna  Giulia's  eyes  following  his  every  movement.  In  a  short 
time  he  would  have  to  return  to  the  room  to  hear  what  Cristina 
might  have  to  tell  him  before  he  parted  from  her ;  but  after  that 
he  would  be  glad  if  he  never  had  to  enter  it  again.     He  walked 


342  TEMPTATION 

hastily  to  the  door  at  the  further  end  of  the  gallery,  and  returned 
to  the  apartment  next  the  dining-room,  where  Professor  Sacchetti 
and  the  lawyer  had  left  him  after  breakfast.  Here  at  least  he 
hoped  to  remain  undisturbed,  to  be  able  to  think.  What,  he 
asked  himself,  had  he  still  to  learn  from  Cristina?  whatever  it 
might  be  it  could  not  be  more  horrible  than  what  he  had  already 
heard  from  her.  Had  she  no  heart — no  feeling  ?  She  had  told 
him  that  what  she  had  done  she  had  done  for  love  of  him ! 
Surely  she  was  like  some  half-civilised  peasant  woman,  with  the 
glamour  of  beauty,  and  the  veneer  of  education  concealing  a 
nature  devoid  of  any  moral  sense  and  powerless  to  bridle  passions 
once  aroused.  She  had  traded  upon  the  unsuspiciousness  of 
Ugo's  nature,  and  to  the  last  had  deceived  him  with  words  of 
love,  and  murder  in  her  heart.  Ah,  but  he,  too,  Fabrizio,  had  he 
not  traded  upon  Ugo's  guilelessness,  and  had  not  he,  too,  deceived 
him  ?  Would  Ugo  be  now  lying  dead  had  he  not  deceived  him  ? 
If  he  had  been  loyal  to  Ugo  and  had  met  his  confidence 
and  trustfulness  as  they  deserved  to  be  met,  if  he  had  not  yielded 
to  the  mad  passion  which  Cristina's  beauty  had  excited  in  him, 
would  Ugo  be  lying  dead — murdered  ? 

The  power  of  thinking  consecutively  had  returned  now,  and 
the  thoughts  came  relentlessly;  a  grim  procession  of  accusing 
memories,  a  record  of  trust  betrayed  and  generous  friendship 
abused.  Fabrizio  Vitali  groaned  aloud,  and  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands.     He  had  come  into  his  inheritance — but  at  what  a  cost ! 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  Only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more,  and 
Sacchetti  would  return.  There  was  no  time  now  for  remorse — that 
would  be  always  with  him  to  the  end  of  his  life.  But  now  he 
must  act,  and  act  promptly.  He  vsrould  do  as  he  had  warned 
Cristina  he  intended  to  do,  insist  upon  Sacchetti  making  his 
examination ;  but  he  would  keep  silence  as  to  what  he  knew, 
unless  the  result  of  the  mitopsia  caused  Sacchetti's  suspicions  to 
fall  on  some  innocent  person.  If  this  were  the  case,  he  must 
speak,  or  he  must  force  Cristina  to  speak.  Yes  \  at  four  o'clock 
he  would  return  to  the  gallery  and  tell  her  that  nothing  would 
move  him  from  this  decision.  He  would  hear  what  she  had  still 
to  tell  him,  and  then  he  would  go  to  Sacchetti,  or  await  his 


TEMPTATION  343 

arrival.  What  was  that  noise?  surely  something  had  fallen,  or  a 
door  had  been  violently  slammed  ! 

Fabrizio  listened  intently.  With  Death  in  the  house  a  sudden 
noise  jars  upon  the  nerves  of  the  living,  who  fear  lest  it  should 
disturb  the  sleep  of  the  dead.  No  further  sound  broke  the  still- 
ness of  the  quiet  house,  and  Fabrizio  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  noise  he  heard  must  have  been  imaginary,  A  few  minutes 
passed,  and  then  the  clock  of  Palazzo  Vitali  struck  four. 

Before  the  last  stroke  had  died  away,  the  door  opened ;  and 
Taddeo,  seeing  that  Fabrizio  was  in  the  room,  announced  the 
signor  Professore  Sacchetti.  The  doctor  advanced ;  and  Fabrizio 
felt  as  well  as  saw  his  quick,  inquiring  glance. 

"  I  am  punctual,  conte,"  he  said,  "  but  as  I  told  you,  time 
presses.  I  trust  you  have  persuaded  the  signora  contessa  to 
agree  with  me  that  an  autopsia  is  advisable.  I  will  be  frank  with 
you,  and  tell  you  that,  in  order  to  contradict  assertions  which  are 
being  made  more  freely  than  ever  in  the  city,  it  is  absolutely 
necessary." 

"Please  understand,  professore,"  said  Fabrizio,  "that  as  my 
cousin's  legal  heir  and  representative,  I  should  insist  upon  an 
autopsia  being  held,  even  if  you,  as  the  medico  curante,  saw  no 
absolute  necessity  for  it." 

The  professor  looked  at  him  quickly. 

"  Sta  bene,"  he  said  briefly. 

"I  have  seen  the  contessa,"  continued  Fabrizio,  "and — 
and — "  he  hesitated,  and  leaned  his  arm  on  the  back  of  a  chair 
as  if  seeking  for  support. 

"  Ah,"  observed  Professor  Sacchetti,  "  and  she,  perhaps,  is  still 
opposed  to  the  idea  ? " 

"She  could  scarcely  be  opposed  to  it,  after  having  been  in- 
formed of  your  motive  for  urging  it,"  Fabrizio  replied,  in  a  low 
voice.  "The  contessa,"  he  added,  "has  authorised  me  to  say 
that  she  now  has  no  reason  to  object — and  I,  as  I  have  already 
said,  have  every  reason  to  insist." 

Professor  Sacchetti's  face  was  impenetrable. 

"  It  is  a  wise  decision,  signor  conte,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me  for  a  few  minutes,"  resumed 


344  TEMPTATION 

Fabrizio.  "  I  promised  the  contessa  that  I  would  return  to  her 
at  four  o'clock,  and  it  is  now  a  few  minutes  past  the  hour.  She 
desired  to  see  me  again  before  you  arrived,  in  order,  I  believe,  to 
give  me  some  final  instructions  as  to  her  wishes.  I  will  return  to 
you  immediately." 

The  professor  bowed.  "  S'immagini ! "  he  said  politely. 
"Pray  do  not  inconvenience  yourself,  conte.  I  will  await  you 
here." 

Fabrizio  left  the  room,  and  the  professor  accompanied  him  to 
the  double  doors  which  Taddeo  had  forgotten  to  close.  An 
ante-chamber,  the  anti-camera  to  Cardinal  Astorre  Vitali's  apart- 
ments, separated  the  room  into  which  Professor  Sacchetti  had 
been  shown  from  the  gallery,  and  the  professor  could  hear  the 
sound  of  Fabrizio's  footsteps  on  its  marble  floor  as  he  crossed  it. 
Then  came  the  sound  of  a  door  being  shut. 

A  moment  or  two  afterwards.  Professor  Sacchetti  started  up 
from  the  chair  in  which  he  had  sat  himself,  for,  muffled  as  it  was 
by  the  distance,  another  sound  had  reached  his  ears,  the  sound 
of  a  loud,  sharp  cry. 

In  an  instant  he  had  crossed  the  anti-camera  and  stood  outside 
the  closed  doors  of  the  gallery.  He  paused  for  a  moment,  then, 
hearing  no  sound  of  voices  from  within,  gently  opened  the  doors. 
No  sooner  had  he  done  so  than  he  uttered  a  quick  exclamation 
and  went  hurriedly  forward  into  the  long  room.  From  the  open 
doors  an  unexpected  odour  had  issued,  the  unmistakable  odour 
of  a  recently  discharged  fire-arm.  For  an  instant  the  doctor  had 
but  one  idea,  namely,  that  Fabrizio  Vitali  had  shot  himself.  His 
suspicions,  as  he  thought,  were  confirmed  by  the  sight  of  Fabrizio 
lying  on  the  floor  at  the  end  of  the  gallery.  Hurrying  forward 
he  bent  over  him,  and  as  he  did  so  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
black-robed  form  half  sitting  in  and  half  lying  across  an  arm-chair. 
One  arm  hung  limply  downward,  and  clenched  in  the  white  hand 
was  a  revolver.  An  open  paper  lay  on  the  floor,  almost  at. 
Fabrizio's  feet. 

"  Crista  1 "  exclaimed  the  professor.  "  It  is  she  who  has  killed 
herself.  As  to  the  other,  he  has  only  fainted — povero  giovane  ! " 
Rapidly  he  examined  the  dead  body  in  the  chair.     Death  had 


TEMPTATION  345 

been  instantaneous,  and  only  a  drop  or  two  ot  blood  welled 
slowly  from  a  blackened  mark  on  Countess  Vitali's  temple. 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Meglio  cosi ! "  he  said 
to  himself.  "It  is  better  to  die  suddenly  than  to  die  gradually 
in  the  ergastolo."  And  then  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  living 
who  needed  him  more. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

■P\ON  BASILIO  did  not  return  to  Villa  Falconara  by  any 
^~^  means  so  early  as  he  had  expected.  Before  going  to  Palazzo 
Vitali,  he  had  wished  to  find  out  for  himself  how  far  the  reports 
which  had  reached  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  as  to  the  evil 
rumours  circulated  in  Viterbo  concerning  Count  Vitali's  unex- 
pected death  might  be  regarded  as  anything  more  than  idle 
gossip.  To  his  amazement  and  horror,  however,  he  had  quickly 
realised  that  the  entire  city  was  discussing  the  rumour  in  question, 
and  not,  as  he  had  supposed,  merely  that  section  of  its  population 
which  was  ever  ready  to  believe  any  tale,  however  improbable. 
Wherever  he  had  been  he  had  met  with  mysterious  hints  and 
inuendoes  as  to  what  had  taken  place  in  Palazzo  Vitali ;  and  it 
was  perfectly  clear  that,  at  any  rate  among  the  borghesia  of 
Viterbo,  Count  Vitali's  wife  and  cousin  were  more  than  suspected 
of  being  accomplices  in  a  monstrous  crime.  After  this  he  had 
hastened  to  the  hospital  where  he  had  hoped  to  get  a  few  words 
with  his  old  friend  Sacchetti ;  but  he  had  been  informed  that  the 
professor  was  at  Palazzo  Vitali,  awaiting  the  arrival  from  Rome  of 
a  member  of  the  family,  who,  as  he  knew,  could  be  none  other 
than  Fabrizio  Vitali. 

Don  Basilio  had  never  entertained  the  least  doubt  as  to  how 
the  rumours  concerning  Ugo  Vitali's  death  had  been  circulated. 
He  felt  convinced  that  they  could  only  have  originated  from 
Palazzo  Vitali  itself;  and  that,  knowingly  or  unknowingly,  Taddeo 
was  primarily  responsible  for  them.  This  conviction  gave  him 
grounds  still  to  hope  that,  after  all,  the  whole  matter  might 
resolve  itself  into  mere  surmise,  which  of  course  Sacchetti,  when 
the  story  reached  his  ears,  would  authoritatively  dismiss  with  the 
contempt  it  deserved. 

From  the  hospital,  Don  Basilio  had  proceeded  directly  to 
Palazzo  Vitali,  hoping  that  he  might  have  an  opportunity  of  at  any 
346 


TEMPTATION  347 

rate  interviewing  Taddeo,  and  of  asking  him  on  what  possible 
grounds  so  terrible  a  rumour  could  have  been  based.  On  arriving 
at  Palazzo  Vitali,  however,  he  found  that  not  only  was  the  portont 
closed,  as  was,  of  course,  natural,  but  that  even  the  little  wicket 
gate  was  locked  against  any  possible  intruder.  The  porter  who, 
after  a  considerable  delay,  cautiously  opened  the  wicket  to  an 
extent  just  enabling  him  to  see  who  was  outside  it,  informed 
Don  Basilio  that  it  was  perfectly  true  the  Professore  Sacchetti 
was  in  the  house,  but  that  he  was  engaged  with  the  Conte 
Fabrizio  who  had  arrived  from  Rome.  He,  the  porter,  had  the 
strictest  orders  not  to  admit  anybody  inside  the  gates,  under  any 
consideration. 

Don  Basilio  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  press  the  point.  He 
could  hardly,  indeed,  insist  on  forcing  his  entry  at  such  a  time. 
Nevertheless,  he  was  determined  to  see  Professor  Sacchetti  at  all 
costs  before  returning  to  Villa  Falconara.  Until  he  had  some 
definite  information  from  an  official  source,  he  felt  that  he  could 
not  present  himself  before  Vittoria  di  San  Felice. 

Sacchetti  must  certainly  leave  Palazzo  Vitali  in  due  course,  and 
Don  Basilio  decided  to  await  his  egress.  The  professor  would 
tell  him  the  truth,  of  that  he  was  sure ;  for  not  only  was  he  an 
old  friend,  but  he  would  guess  that  he,  Don  Basilio,  was 
commissioned  by  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  to  obtain  informa- 
tion. And  for  the  duchessa  Sacchetti  might  be  relied  upon  to  do 
anything ;  since  he  regarded  her  almost  in  the  light  of  a  colleague, 
owing  to  the  practical  support  she  had  given  to  more  than  one  of 
his  schemes  for  the  welfare  of  the  sick  and  suffering. 

Don  Basilio  had  to  wait  considerably  longer  than  he  had  ex- 
pected before  Professor  Sacchetti  finally  emerged  from  ihtporfone 
of  Palazzo  Vitali,  A  glance  at  the  doctor's  countenance,  usually 
cheerful,  but  now  thoughtful  and  preoccupied  to  a  remarkable 
degree,  was  sufficient  to  show  Don  Basilio  that  something  was 
weighing  heavily  on  his  mind.  He  was  accompanied  by  the 
avvocato  Filippi,  who  was  known  to  the  priest  by  sight  though 
not  personally,  and  the  two  were  talking  earnestly  together — 
so  earnestly,  indeed,  that  neither  of  them  noticed  Don  Basilio  who 
happened  to  be  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.     Not  liking  to 


348  TEMPTATION 

interrupt  their  conversation,  and  being  unwilling  to  ask  questions 
before  the  avvocato,  of  whose  business  relations  with  Casa  Vitali 
he  was  fully  aware,  Don  Basilio  followed  him  at  a  certain  distance. 
It  was  not  till  he  saw  the  lawyer  take  leave  of  his  companion  and 
turn  into  a  side  street  that  he  quickened  his  steps  and  overtook 
Professor  Sacchetti. 

"This  is  a  sad  business,  professore,"  he  said,  after  greeting 
him.  "  I  have  been  waiting — oh,  but  considerably  more  than  an 
hour — hoping  to  get  a  few  words  with  you.  As  you  may  imagine, 
the  signora  duchessa  di  San  Felice  is  much  distressed;  and  I 
have  come  to  Viterbo  to  learn  further  particulars." 

The  professor  looked  at  him  sharply.  "You  have  doubtless 
spoken  with  others  before  meeting  me,"  he  said.  "  If  so,"  he 
continued  with  a  touch  of  impatience,  "  you  know  what  is  being 
said  in  Viterbo." 

"  That  is  why  I  come  to  you,"  answered  Don  Basilio  simply. 
"  I  do  not  believe  what  I  hear  from  others." 

"  But  you  know  what  is  said  ?  "  insisted  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,  Unluckily,  the  same  person  who  brought  the  news  of 
Count  Vitali's  death  to  Villa  Falconara  this  morning  also  brought 
an  incredible  story  as  to  how  it  had  occurred.  The  story  was 
repeated  to  the  duchessa.  I  arrived  at  the  Villa  too  late  to 
prevent  it  reaching  her  ears.  Of  course  it  is  all  nonsense! 
but » 

"  Come  with  me,  Don  Basilio,"  interrupted  the  professor.  "  If 
we  are  seen  talking  together  here  in  the  streets,  a  hundred 
people  will  come  to  try  to  get  something  out  of  me — as  you  have 
come,  del  resto !  but  with  you  it  is  different.  If  you  will  ac- 
company me  to  my  house,  there  we  can  talk  quietly.  It  is  a 
brutto  affare,"  and  he  shook  his  head. 

The  two  succeeded  in  reaching  Professor  Sacchetti's  abode 
without  being  molested  by  any  curious  passer-by,  and  the  doctor 
took  Don  Basilio  into  his  study.  Having  established  his  guest 
in  an  arm-chair,  Professor  Sacchetti  lighted  a  cigar  and  began  to 
smoke  vigorously.  Don  Basilio  waited  in  silence.  He  knew 
that  Sacchetti  would  speak  when  he  chose  to  speak,  but  not 
before. 


TEMPTATION  349 

"My  friend,"  the  professor  observed  presently,  "I  fear  that 
we  are  confronted  by  an  enormous  scandal." 

Don  Basilio  started.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  he  exclaimed, 
"thatj^<?«,  too,  suspect  something  wrong?" 

Professor  Sacchetti  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  know  just  as 
much,  but  no  more,  as  anybody  else  does  at  this  moment,"  he 
replied,  "  but  what  I  know,  I  will  tell  you.  Until  three  days  ago 
Count  Vitali  was  going  on  well.  Three  days  ago  he  complained 
of  again  feeling  internal  pains  and  sickness.  Those  symptoms, 
perfectly  natural  to  his  case,  had  previously  yielded  satisfactorily 
to  my  treatment.  For  some  days  he  had  been  almost  free 
from  any  internal  discomfort.  To  my  mind  the  relapse  was 
sufficiently  explained  by  an  imprudence  in  diet  which  the  patient 
had  insisted  on  committing.  I  repeated  the  former  treatment 
and,  as  I  had  anticipated,  the  unfavourable  symptoms  soon 
began  to  disappear.  Quite  suddenly,  however,  they  developed 
to  an  alarming  extent.  Violent  sickness  was  followed  by  acute 
cerebral  disturbance,  and  this  last  was  succeeded  by  coma,  and, 
early  this  morning — by  death." 

"  But  were  these  not  natural  symptoms — the  result  of  some 
complication  causing  acute  internal  inflammation  suddenly  to 
develop  itself?"  asked  Don  Basilio. 

"  Did  I  say  that  they  were  unnatural  symptoms  ? "  returned 
Professor  Sacchetti,  a  little  irritably.  "On  the  contrary,"  he 
added,  "they  were  perfectly  natural  in  a  case  in  which  the 
viscera  had  sustained  actual  injury.  That  is  the  worst  part  of 
the  whole  business.  Now,  my  friend.  Count  Vitali  had  not 
sustained  any  such  serious  injury  from  his  accident.  I,  Sacchetti, 
will  stake  my  reputation  that  he  had  not !  Dunque  ? — "  He 
paused,  and  looked  at  the  priest  significantly. 

"Then  you  cannot  account  for  the  catastrophe,"  said  Don 
Basilio.  "And  yet,"  he  added,  "the  case  was  in  your  hands 
from  the  beginning." 

"Yes,"  the  professor  remarked  drily,  "from  the  beginning. 
I  am  beginning  to  suspect  that  I  helped  to  hasten  its  end." 

Don  Basilio  stared  at  him  with  amazement. 

"  Oh,  quite  unwittingly,  my  dear  friend — though  probably  you 


350  TEMPTATION 

will  say  that  we  doctors  usually  have  that  excuse !  But  I  will 
explain  myself.  Count  Vitali's  symptoms  were,  as  I  said,  entirely 
consistent  with  what  might  have  been  expected  had  he  received 
some  severe  internal  injury.  He  had,  however,  received  no 
such  thing — of  that  I  am  confident.  He  was  suffering  from 
a  more  or  less  severe  visceral  co?nmozione,  caused  by  his  horse 
falling  upon  him — but  there  was  no  organic  injury  at  all  likely, 
with  ordinary  treatment,  to  produce  inflammation  of  a  serious 
nature.  Part  of  my  treatment,  of  course  only  part  of  it,  con- 
sisted in  periodical  injections  of  morfina,  which  I  administered 
myself.  Count  Vitali,  like  many  strong  men  unaccustomed  to 
illness,  was  a  restless  patient.  Moreover,  at  first  he  suffered  a  \ 
good  deal  of  pain,  whereas  perfect  stillness  and  repose  both  of 
body  and  mind  are  very  necessary  in  similar  cases.  Bene  !  It 
is  a  curious  thing,  Don  Basilio,  but  it  is  nevertheless  a  fact  that 
the  symptoms  to  which  Count  Vitali  so  quickly  succumbed  might 
equally  have  been  produced  both  by  acute  inflammation  resulting 
from  intestinal  injuries,  and  by  a  series  of  over  doses  of  morfina. 
The  cerebral  disturbance,  which  I  have  mentioned  as  immediately 
preceding  death,  would  in  particular  be  a  feature  common  to  both 
causes.     Mi  spiego  ?  " 

"  You  explain  yourself  perfectly,"  rephed  Don  Basilio.  "  But 
it  is  horrible,"  he  added,  "incredible!  Of  course  I  understand 
now  that  you  suspect  poisoning — poisoning  by  the  very  drug  you 
were  yourself  administering  in  proper  quantities,  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

Professor  Sacchetti  nodded.  "  I  suspect  it — yes,"  he  said, 
"but  as  yet  it  is  a  suspicion  only.  I  am  not  infallible,  Don 
Basilio,  like  you  are  supposed  to  believe  the  Holy  Father  to  be — 
I  say  'supposed,'  because  naturally,  as  a  sensible  man,  you  believe 
nothing  of  the  kind.  It  is  always  possible  that  I  have  throughout 
failed  to  discover  in  Count  Vitali's  case  what  I  ought  to  have 
discovered.     But  I  do  not  think  it." 

" Surely,"  said  Don  Basilio,  "whether  or  not  you  have  been 
mistaken  can  be  easily  proved — must  be  proved  ?  " 

"  Precisely.  This  morning,  when  all  was  over  and  I  could  do 
np  more,  I  suggested  to  the  Contessa  Vitali  the  advisability  of  an 
autops'ta.     I  confessed  to  her  that  I  had  not  anticipated  any  such 


TEMPTATION  351 

violent  relapse,  and  still  less  one  that  would  so  quickly  prove 
fatal.  The  contessa  resolutely  declined  to  give  her  consent  to 
any  such  proceeding." 

"And  her  opposition  roused  your  suspicions?  God  grant  that 
they  may  still  prove  to  be  nothing  more  than  suspicions  ! " 

"  E  cosi  sia,  Don  Basilio  !  "  exclaimed  the  professor,  earnestly. 
"  My  reputation  would  be  badly  damaged  should  Count  Vitali's 
death  be  found  to  have  been  due  to  his  injuries — but,  beheve 
me,  I  would  a  thousand  times  rather  it  were  proved  that  I  had 
made  a  mistake  than  the  reverse !  But  you  ask  me  if  the 
contessa's  opposition  roused  my  suspicions.  No — it  did  not. 
They  were  aroused  afterwards." 

"By  Taddeo — the  old  maggior-domo ? "  asked  Don  Basilio 
quickly. 

"  No — not  in  the  first  instance.  It  so  happened  that,  on 
leaving  Palazzo  Vitali  after  the  event,  I  had  occasion  to  enter 
a  chemist's  shop — a  shop  to  which  I  seldom  go.  The  news  of 
the  count's  death  was  already  known  ;  and  the  padrone  happened 
to  mention  to  me  that  a  few  days  ago  he  had  sold  to  the  signora 
contessa  two  hypodermic  syringes  with  the  accompanying _;?«// of 
morfina  for  injection." 

"  Ah  ! "  exclaimed  Don  Basilio. 

"  The  coincidence  struck  me  as  curious,"  continued  Professor 
Sacchetti,  "so  curious,  indeed,  that  I  visited  another  farmacia 
in  the  city,  and  apparently  the  contessa  had  also  purchased  two 
of  the  same  apparatus  from  that  establishment.  I  cannot  find, 
however,  that  she  has  purchased  more  than  these  four,  at  any 
rate  in  Viterbo ;  and  a  larger  quantity  of  morfina  would  be 
necessary  to  produce  any  fatal  result,  even  when  combined  with 
that  which  I  was  myself  giving." 

"  It  is  monstrous,  incredible ! "  said  Don  Basilio,  "  but  even 
yet  I  hope  that  there  is  some  mistake.  The  contessa  may  have 
wanted  morfina  for  herself.  I  am  told  that  ladies  occasionally 
make  use  of  that  drug." 

"  It  is  possible,"  returned  Professor  Sacchetti  drily.  "  At 
all  events,"  he  added,  "  I  shall  know  by  to-night  whether  it  is. I 
who  liave  made  a  mistake." 


352  TEMPTATION 

"  You  mean  to  make  the  autopsia  ?  " 

"  But  certainly  !  I  have  had  a  long  interview  with  Conte 
Fabrizio  Vitali.     He  arrived  from  Rome  at  mid-day." 

Don  Basilio  looked  at  him  enquiringly,  and  the  professor 
read  his  thoughts. 

"  No,"  he  said,  quickly,  "  no,  amico  mio,  I  am  convinced  he 
knows  nothing.  When  I  told  him  what  was  being  said  here 
in  Viterbo,  he  was  indignant;  and,  unless  I  am  very  much 
mistaken,  his  indignation  was  genuine.  He  declared  he  would 
support  my  request  for  an  autopsia.  Indeed,  he  undertook  to 
explain  to  the  contessa  that  she  must  give  way.  No ;  whatever 
relations  may  exist  between  those  two — and  we  have  all  of  us 
heard  certain  stories,  have  we  not  ? — I  do  not  believe  that  Fabrizio 
Vitali  had  the  slightest  suspicion  of  what  I  was  obliged  to  tell 
him  this  morning." 

"  And  now  ?  "  asked  Don  Basilio, 

"  Povero  giovane  ! "  replied  the  professor.  "  Now  he  has 
the  same  suspicion  that  we  all  have.  He  is  struggling  against 
it,  and  he  is  suffering  horribly.  Imagine  what  he  must  be 
suffering,  if  things  are  as  some  assert  them  to  be  between  him 
and  his  cousin's  wife  !  He  is  ill,  too ;  on  the  verge  of  a  nervous 
collapse,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken.  At  first  I  believed  his 
nervousness  to  be  due  to  some  guilty  knowledge,  but  now  I  am 
persuaded  it  results  from  some  other  cause,  and  one  not  difficult 
to  define.  If  it  should  turn  out  that  the  contessa  is, — what  some 
people  declare  her  to  be, — I  should  say  the  unhappy  young  man 
will  very  likely  lose  his  mental  balance  and  seek  to  destroy 
himself.  He  might  do  worse,  of  course;  though  I  suppose  I 
should  not  say  so  to  you  !  " 

"No,"  observed  Don  Basilio,  "not  to  me,  nor  to  any- 
body." 

Professor  Sacchetti  smiled.  "  I  am  inclined  to  agree  with 
you,"  he  said.  "  We  doctors  cannot,  as  the  English  poet 
Shakespeare  says,  'minister  to  a  mind  diseased,'  but  you 
doctors  of  the  soul  very  often  can.  Who  knows  that  I  may 
not  have  to  call  you  in  as  a  colleague  ?  " 

Don   Basilio  did  not  reply;  but  from  the  expression  of  his 


TEMPTATION  353 

face  it  was  evident  that  he  was  thinking  deeply,  perhaps,  as  the 
professor  more  than  half  suspected,  praying  deeply  also. 

"  And  what  am  I  to  say  when  I  return  to  Villa  Falconara  ? " 
the  priest  asked  presently.  "As  yet,"  he  continued,  "you  can 
tell  me  nothing  definite.     It  is  all  suspicion,  horrible  conjecture." 

Professor  Sacchetti  took  out  his  watch  and  looked  at  it. 
"  Caro  Don  Basilio,"  he  replied,  "  as  yet  I  can  tell  you  nothing 
definite,  as  you  say.  But  at  four  o'clock  I  have  to  return  to 
Palazzo  Vitali,  and  then  we  shall  see  whether  the  contessa  has 
been  persuaded  by  Fabrizio  Vitali  to  listen  to  reason.  If  I  were 
you,  I  should  remain  quietly  here — in  my  study.  Nobody  will 
disturb  you,  and  you  can  return  to  the  signora  duchessa  this 
evening,  by  which  time  I  may  be  able  to  give  you  more  definite 
information.  I  need  hardly  say  that  what  1  have  already  told 
you  is  entirely  confidential.  Though  many  people  have  tried 
to  approach  me  this  morning,  nobody  as  yet  has  the  least  idea 
that  I  am  unsatisfied  as  to  the  cause  of  Count  Vitali's  death. 
I  am  not  fond  of  scandals ;  and  if  I  can  conscientiously  see  my 
way  to  avoiding  this  one,  I  shall  do  so.  Of  course,  if  I  find  that 
a  crime  has  been  committed,  it  will  be  my  duty  to  state  my 
opinion  to  the  authorities,  and  things  must  take  their  course. 
But  I  am  sorry  for  that  young  man,"  he  repeated,  "  I  am 
convinced  that,  if  there  has  been  a  crime  perpetrated,  he  is 
entirely  innocent  of  it.  All  the  same,  nobody  will  ever  believe 
that  he  is  so ;  and  he  will  always  be  regarded  as  an  accomplice." 

"  Sicuro  ! "  exclaimed  Don  Basilio.  "  Unluckily  for  him,  he  is 
Count  Vitali's  heir," 

"And  reported  to  be  the  lover  of  Count  Vitali's  widow," 
interrupted  Professor  Sacchetti. 

"  I  forgot  that,  for  the  moment,"  said  Don  Basilio. 

Professor  Sacchetti  smiled  grimly.  "  You  may  be  sure  that 
nobody  else  will  forget  it,"  he  observed,  "  even  if  the  report  be 
absolutely  untrue.  Now,"  he  added,  "  I  must  leave  you,  Don 
Basilio — if,  as  I  suggest,  you  care  to  wait  here  for  another  hour 
or  so.  I  have  to  go  to  the  hospital  before  returning  to  Palazzo 
Vitali,  and  it  is  already  nearly  half-past  three,  so  I  have  not 
much  time  to  lose." 


354  TEMPTATION 

Don  Basilio  accepted  the  invitation,  since  he  felt  it  would  be 
impossible  to  return  to  Villa  Falconara  until  he  found  himself 
in  a  position  to  take  back  more  definite  information  than  he 
had  hitherto  been  able  to  gather.  Professor  Sacchetti  snatched 
up  his  soft  felt  hat  and  hurried  away,  leaving  the  priest  surrounded 
by  learned  treatise  and  medical  works  which  Don  Basilio,  in  the 
actual  state  of  his  mind,  was  unequal  even  to  make  a  pretence  of 
examining. 

His  thoughts  recurred  to  what  Taddeo  had  told  him  a  few 
days  previously.  He  remembered  the  old  servant's  account  of 
how  he  had  overheard  Countess  Vitali  reminding  Fabrizio  that, 
should  Ugo  die,  he  would  inherit  his  cousin's  possessions,  and 
Fabrizio's  entreaty  that  she  would  not  make  him  think  of  things 
he  did  not  want  to  think  about ;  his  almost  angry  assertion  that 
he  wished  no  ill  to  befall  Ugo.  Don  Basilio  could  hardly  doubt 
the  existence  of  the  intimacy  between  the  two  which  had  become 
the  common  talk  of  the  neighbourhood.  Taddeo  could  not  have 
imagined  all  he  had  overheard ;  and,  moreover,  the  Duchessa  di 
San  Felice  was  evidently  firmly  persuaded  that  Countess  Vitali 
was  an  unfaithful  wife  and  Fabrizio  a  treacherous  kinsman. 
But  the  duchessa  was  also  convinced  that  murder  had  been  done, 
and  that  Fabrizio  Vitali  and  the  woman  who  had  become  his 
mistress  were  accomplices  in  the  doing  of  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  Sacchetti,  while  full  of  grave  suspicion  of  Countess  Vitali, 
had  just  declared  his  conviction  that,  although  Fabrizio  might  be 
her  lover,  he  was  innocent  of  any  knowledge  of  her  crime,  if 
crime  there  had  been.  It  was  perfectly  clear  that,  were  Count 
Vitali's  death  proved  to  be  due  to  poisoning  by  morphia,  or  to 
any  other  unnatural  cause,  the  world  at  large  would  never 
beheve  in  Fabrizio  Vitali's  innocence ;  nor,  probably,  would  the 
authorities  of  the  law. 

Apart  from  the  monstrosity  of  the  crime  itself,  were  it  proven, 
and  the  hideous  idea  that  here,  in  a  civilised  city  and  in  a  family 
occupying  a  high  position,  such  a  deed  was  possible,  Don 
Basilio  could  not  but  shudder  when  he  thought  of  what  Fabrizio 
Vitali's  mental  state  would  be  if  he  was  indeed  guiltless  of  any 
knowledge  of  or  participation  in  it.     Indirectly  guilty  he  would 


TEMPTATION  355 

surely  always  feel  himself  to  be,  since  conscience  would  tell  him 
that  if  he  had  not  yielded  to  temptation  and  betrayed  the  honour 
of  the  head  of  his  house,  the  other  and  graver  crime  would  in  all 
probability  never  have  been  committed. 

It  was  no  wonder,  Don  Basilio  said  to  himself,  if,  as  Sacchetti 
had  declared,  the  unfortunate  young  man  was  now  in  a  state  of 
mind  which  might  lead  him  to  desperation.  If,  as  Sacchetti  said 
was  the  case,  Fabrizio  had  begun  to  suspect  his  mistress  of 
murdering  her  husband,  would  not  his  horror  and  remorse 
become  unendurable? 

And  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  ?  What,  Don  Basilio  thought 
with  a  heart  full  of  pity,  was  he  to  say  to  her — if  Sacchetti  were 
to  find  his  suspicions  confirmed?  Side  by  side  with  the  deep 
grief  he  had  seen  in  her  face  at  the  unexpected  death  of  her  old 
friend,  for  whom  he  was  convinced  she  would  have  felt  more  than 
friendship  had  she  allowed  herself  to  do  so,  he  had  also  seen 
deep  and  bitter  anger.  She  would  never  believe  in  Fabrizio 
Vitali's  innocence;  Don  Basilio  was  sure  of  this.  On  the 
contrary,  if  he  had  read  aright  the  look  on  her  face  that  morning, 
she  would  never  rest  until  those  she  believed  to  be  guilty  were 
paying  the  full  penalty  for  their  crime. 

The  period  of  suspense  through  which  Don  Basilio  had  made 
up  his  mind  he  would  have  to  pass  before  Professor  Sacchetti 
returned  from  Palazzo  Vitali  was  shorter  than  he  had  anticipated. 
His  painful  reflections  were  suddenly  interrupted  by  the 
professor's  servant  who  entered  the  room  hurriedly,  bringing  a 
note  which  he  said  had  that  moment  arrived  from  his  padrone, 
with  directions  that  it  was  to  be  given  to  Don  Basilio  at  once. 

The  priest  tore  it  open,  with  a  presentiment  of  further  evil. 
Professor  Sacchetti  had  written  a  couple  of  lines  only,  begging 
Don  Basilio  to  come  to  him  immediately  at  Palazzo  Vitali  where 
he  would  at  once  be  admitted.  The  note  contained  no  explana- 
tion of  this  unexpected  request;  but  Don  Basilio  lost  not  a 
moment  in  complying  with  it. 

A  hurried  walk  of  a  few  minutes  brought  him  to  the  portone 
which  he  had  that  morning  in  vain  tried  to  pass.  Apparently 
orders  had  been  given  to  the  porter  to  admit  him  instantly ;  for 


356  TEMPTATION 

he  had  no  sooner  knocked  than  the  wicket  gate  was  opened,  and 
the  man  as  promptly  closed  it  behind  him. 

To  Don  Basilio's  surprise,  the  professor  was  awaiting  him  at 
the  foot  of  the  staircase  leading  up  to  that  portion  of  the  piano 
nobile  which  Count  and  Countess  Vitali  had  always  occupied 
since  their  marriage.  A  glance  at  the  doctor's  face  was  sufficient 
to  convince  the  priest  that  his  forebodings  of  further  evil  were 
about  to  be  verified.  Professor  Sacchetti  was  evidently  under  the 
influence  of  extreme  agitation ;  and  Don  Basilio,  who  knew  the 
habitual  calmness  and  presence  of  mind  which  had  gained  for 
him  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  most  brilliant  operators 
among  his  colleagues,  felt  assured  that  he  must  have  learned 
something  which  had  confirmed  his  worst  suspicions. 

"  Per  carita,  Sacchetti,"  exclaimed  Don  Basilio,  "  what  has 
happened  ?  " 

The  professor  drew  him  aside  and  whispered  a  few  words  in 
his  ear. 

The  priest  started  back  horrified.  "  Gran  Dio ! "  he  cried. 
"  It  is  impossible  !  " 

"  Zitto  ! "  the  doctor  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Zitto,  Don  Basilio, 
per  carita !  As  yet  nobody  knows  it,  nobody  except  Taddeo, 
and  he,  for  the  honour  of  the  family,  will  not  speak  until — well, 
until  the  authorities  arrive.     Yes,  she  has  killed  herself " 

"  Disgraziata  ! "  interrupted  the  priest,  and  then  he  crossed 
himself. 

"  For  an  instant  I  thought  that  he  had  shot  her,"  continued 
Professor  Sacchetti,  as  they  slowly  mounted  the  staircase 
together.  "  We  had  been  talking,  he  and  I,  and  he  left  me  to 
go  into  the  gallery  where  the  contessa  was  awaiting  him.  He 
had  hardly  got  into  the  room  when,  in  the  distance,  I  heard  a 
loud  cry — a  terrible  cry  !  I  went  to  the  door  of  the  gallery  and 
opened  it  gently.  Then  I  smelt  the  smell  of  gunpowder,  and  I 
went  in.  I  found  Fabrizio  Vitali  lying  on  the  floor,  and  a  few 
feet  away  from  him  I  saw  the  contessa.  She  had  fallen  across  a 
chair — and  she  was  dead,  quite  dead.  She  had  shot  herself,  and 
the  revolver  was — is — still  in  her  hand." 

" Madonna  santissima ! "  ejaculated  Don  Basilio,  "  and  he ?" 


TEMPTATION  357 

"  He  had  found  her  so,  and  uttered  that  cry.  Then  he 
fainted.  Listen,  Don  Basilio — he  had  told  her  that  the  autopsia 
must  be  held,  and  so,  in  her  fear  of  what  it  would  reveal,  she 
destroyed  herself." 

"  And  he — Fabrizio  Vitali — knew  that  she  was  guilty  !  Che 
orrore  ! " 

"  Not  at  all !  "  exclaimed  Professor  Sacchetti  quickly.  "  I  was 
right.  He  knew  nothing.  This  paper  " — and  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  as  he  spoke  the  piece  of  paper  he  had  found  lying  near 
Fabrizio — "  exonerates  him  from  all  knowledge  of — all  complicity 
in  the  crime.  She  planned  it,  and  executed  it,  and  she  alone. 
But  who  will  believe  this  piece  of  paper  ?  People  will  say  she 
wrote  it  to  shield  her  lover.  They  will  even  say  he  forced  her  to 
write  it.  In  the  meantime,  he  is  in  the  charge  of  one  of  my 
infermieri.  Another  is  keeping  guard  over  her,  until  the 
authorities  are  informed  of  what  has  happened  and  come  to 
verify  the  suicide.  He,  Fabrizio  Vitali,  is  in  a  state  of  mental 
collapse.  Sometimes  he  talks  nonsense ;  but  for  the  most  part 
he  is,  as  it  were,  stupefied.     That  is  why  I  have  sent  for  you." 

"  For  me  ! "  repeated  Don  Basilio. 

"  For  you.  You  are  a  priest.  What  did  I  say  to  you  a  short 
lime  ago  ?  you  priests  are  doctors  for  the  soul.  That  unhappy 
man  is  innocent,  Don  Basilio — I  repeat  to  you  that  he  is  innocent, 
at  all  events  of  having  had  any  part  in  his  cousin's  death  !  And 
he  is  suffering — suffering  the  tortures  of,  well,  of  what  you  would 
call  hell,  I  suppose.  I  want  you  to  go  to  him,  as  a  doctor ;  for 
your  treatment  will  be  more  efficacious  than  mine.  More- 
over  " 

"What?"  asked  Don  BasiHo  in  a  low  voice,  as  Professor 
Sacchetti  paused. 

"  I  want  you  to  convince  yourself  of  his  innocence,"  the  pro- 
fessor continued,  "  so  that,  when  the  time  comes,  you  will  be  able 
to  add  the  weight  of  your  testimony  to  mine.  When  I  know 
that  you  are  with  him,  I  will  send  to  advise  the  authorities  of 
what  has  taken  place.  I  have  delayed  doing  so  for  no  other 
reason  than  to  save  that  young  man  from  being  arrested  as  an 
accomplice  in  the  crime.     We  shall  be  unable  to  remove  sus- 


358  TEMPTATION 

picion — he  will  lie  under  that  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  But 
our  testimony,  yours  and  mine,  coupled  with  the  contessa's  state- 
ment, will  cause  the  authorities  to  hesitate  before  they  take  any 
proceedings  against  him." 

"  But,  Dio  mio  ! "  exclaimed  Don  Basilio,  "  do  you  not  see 
that  he  is  hopelessly  compromised  ?  His  position  as  poor  Count 
Ugo's  heir  is  fatal  to  his  ever  being  able  to  establish  his  innocence 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world." 

"  In  the  eyes  of  the  world — yes,"  answered  the  professor. 
"  But,  if  he  is  supported  by  our  testimony,  there  will  always  be  a 
minority  who  will  at  least  give  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt !  I 
imagine,  however,  that  in  a  short  time  it  will  not  matter  to  him 
what  the  world  thinks.  Unless  I  am  much  mistaken,  he  has 
not  the  temperament  to  stand  up  against  the  shock  he  has 
received.  He  will  give  way  to  remorse,  and  remorse  will  create 
despair.  We  all  know  to  what  such  a  condition  of  things  frequently 
leads." 

"  Ah,  but  it  must  not — it  shall  not ! "  exclaimed  Don  Basilio. 

The  professor  looked  at  him.  "  I  think,"  he  said  quietly, 
'  whether  it  does  so  or  not  will  depend  more  upon  your  treat- 
ment of  the  case  than  mine,  my  dear  friend  ! " 

Don  Basilio  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  But  I  have  not  his 
confidence,"  he  said  presently. 

"  Gain  it,"  returned  Professor  Sacchetti  laconically.  "  That 
is  what  I  have  called  you  in  to  do,"  he  added  with  one  of  his 
quick  smiles.  "  If  he  broods  over  his  remorse,  he  will  probably 
go  mad — especially  when  he  realises,  which  as  yet  he  probably 
does  not  do,  that  he  must  always  be  a  suspected  man.  Make 
him  talk,  confess  his  sins — anything  you  like — and  you  will  probably 
save  him  from  himself,  and  from  despair.  Is  that  not  a  priest's 
work  more  than  a  doctor's  work  ?     I  will  undertake  the  rest." 

"I  will  do  my  best,"  said  Don  Basilio  solemnly;  "with  God's 
help,  I  will  do  my  best.  You  are  right,  Sacchetti,  it  is  a  duty ; 
but  if  he  is  innocent,  as  you  assert  and  that  wretched  woman 
has  declared,  then  it  would  be  a  crime  to  abandon  him." 

Professor  Sacchetti  nodded.  "Siamo  d'accordo,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  satisfactory  when  colleagues  agree !     I  will  take  you  to  him. 


TEMPTATION  359 

The  infermiere  can  remain  in  the  adjoining  room  while  you  are 
with  him.  Only,  make  him  talk  !  You  will  notice  that,  every 
now  and  then,  he  looks  terrified,  and  puts  his  hands  to  his  head 
as  though  to  shut  out  some  distressing  sound.  He  has  spoken 
about  a  laugh.  Del  resto,  it  is  a  strange  moment  to  think  about 
laughter,  but  that  is  all  the  effect  of  nerves,  of  course,  and  it  is 
precisely  these  symptoms  which  make  me  uneasy.  I  can  sooth 
the  body,  but  it  must  be  your  task  to  quiet  the  mind.  Let  us  go, 
then;  for  I  have  much  to  do.  I  should  have  communicated 
with  the  authorities  before  now,  and  there  is  the  autopsia.  That 
is  more  necessary  now  than  ever,  though  this  paper  has  already 
set  all  doubt  at  rest  as  to  the  true  cause  of  poor  Count  Ugo's 

death.     Ah,  poveretto  !     I  cannot  think  of  it " 

And  Professor  Sacchetti  passed  his  hand  quickly  across  his 
eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

T  T  was  late  that  evening  before  Don  Basilio  returned  to  Villa 
-*■  Falconara.  He  had  been  able,  however,  to  despatch  a 
messenger  to  the  Duchessa  di  San  Felice  with  a  note  in  which  he 
explained  to  her  that  his  presence  was  required  at  Palazzo  Vitali. 
It  would  be  useless,  he  knew,  to  attempt  to  conceal  from  her  the 
tragedy  which  had  taken  place.  By  this  time  its  principal  details 
would  have  been  telegraphed  throughout  the  length  and  breadth 
of  Italy,  and  the  newspaper  editors  would  be  rejoicing.  He  had 
judged  it  better,  therefore,  to  tell  her  frankly  that  the  popular 
rumour  as  to  the  cause  of  Count  Vitali's  death  was  only  too  true ; 
and  that  Countess  Vitali,  the  sole  author  of  the  crime,  had  taken 
her  own  life  so  soon  as  she  had  become  aware  that  detection  was 
inevitable. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  neither  Don  BasiHo  nor  Professor 
Sacchetti  believed  that  Countess  Vitali  had  put  an  end  to  her 
earthly  existence  for  this  cause  only.  The  priest,  indeed,  was 
convinced  that  she  had  killed  herself,  not  from  fear  of  what  the 
results  of  the  autopsy  might  be,  but  in  an  hour  of  despair  at  the 
discovery  that  her  lover  now  regarded  her  with  horror  and 
aversion.  Don  Basilio  argued  to  himself  that  Countess  Vitali 
must  from  the  first  have  contemplated  the  possibility  of  an 
autopsia  being  insisted  upon  by  Professor  Sacchetti ;  and  that  she 
had  purposely  chosen  morphia  to  effect  her  design  knowing  that 
Sacchetti  had  himself  administered  it  to  her  husband. 

A  couple  of  hours  spent  alone  with  Fabrizio  Vitali  had 
sufficed  to  convince  Don  Basilio  that,  had  Countess  Vitali  not 
recognised  the  fact  of  her  power  over  her  lover  being  gone  for 
ever — had  she  not  realised  that  his  love  had  turned  to  bitter 
loathing,  she  would  have  faced  all  risks  of  discovery.  She  would, 
he  felt  assured,  have  attempted  to  remove  suspicion  from  herself 
by  insisting  on  the  point  that  Sacchetti,  on  the  reappearance  of 
360 


TEMPTATION  361 

disturbing  symptoms,  had  himself  reverted  to  the  injections  of 
morphia. 

What  passed  between  him  and  Fabrizio  Vitali  during  that 
first  interview,  Don  Basilio  would  never,  of  course,  divulge.  Even 
Professor  Sacchetti  had  not  ventured  to  question  him  on  the 
subject.  It  was  sufficient  for  the  professor  that  Don  Basilio 
left  Fabrizio's  room  convinced  of  his  innocence  of  any  fore- 
knowledge of  or  complicity  in  Countess  Vitali's  action,  and  that 
he  solemnly  assured  the  authorities  that  any  attempt  to  implicate 
Fabrizio  in  the  crime  would  be  a  monstrous  injustice. 

The  paper  which  Cristina  Vitali  had  brought  with  her  to  the 
gallery,  and  which  must  have  fallen  from  her  hand  at  the  moment 
of  discharging  the  revolver,  contained  a  concise  but  full  account 
of  how  she  had  carried  out  her  crime.  It  even  explained  how 
she  had  urged  Fabrizio  to  leave  Palazzo  Vitali  after  her  husband's 
accident  because  she  felt  she  would  be  more  free  to  perform  a 
deed  which  she  had  intended  to  keep  for  ever  secret  from  him, 
but  which  circumstances  had  after  all  compelled  her  to  confess 
to  him. 

None  but  Don  Basilio  knew  exactly  what  these  circumstances 
were ;  for  even  Professor  Sacchetti,  when  he  had  returned  to 
Palazzo  Vitali  to  learn  the  result  of  Fabrizio's  interview  with 
his  cousin's  widow,  had  no  suspicion  that  Fabrizio  knew  Countess 
Vitali  to  be  guilty,  though  he  did  suspect  that  a  doubt  had 
already  entered  his  mind  and  was  torturing  him  almost  beyond 
endurance.  None  but  Don  Basilio  himself  would  ever  know  all 
that  had  passed  between  him  and  the  sick  man  who,  as  the 
professor  had  speedily  realised,  needed  a  spiritual  rather  than  a 
bodily  physician  to  cure  his  malady. 

Nor  had  Don  Basilio  been  able  to  progress  very  far  with  his 
treatment.  He  had  found  Fabrizio  Vitali  in  no  condition  to 
enable  him  to  do  so,  and,  moreover,  he  was  as  yet  uncertain  as 
to  how  he  should  best  deal  with  his  case.  He  knew  that  it 
would  be  useless,  and  probably  worse  than  useless,  to  attempt 
at  once  to  bring  the  consolations  of  religion  to  one  who  he  was 
aware  had  prided  himself  upon  emancipation  from  all  belief 
in  the  supernatural.     The  priest  felt  that  he  must  gain  Fabrizio 


362  TEMPTATION 

Vitali's  confidence  before  he  could  hope  to  bring  even  a  ray  of 
hope  or  comfort  to  that  tortured  mind.  That  was  not  a  thing 
to  be  accomplished  in  a  moment ;  and  its  accomplishment  would 
certainly  not  be  assisted  by  any  resort  to  religious  platitudes. 
The  root  of  the  disease,  Don  Basilio  felt  convinced,  was  too 
deeply  seated  to  be  reached  by  superficial  remedies  admirably 
adapted,  no  doubt,  to  one  who  already  believed  in  their  worth, 
but  supremely  irritating  to  a  sufferer  like  Fabrizio  Vitali,  who  had 
for  long  been  engaged  in  carefully  training  his  mind  to  close 
itself  against  their  influences. 

During  the  couple  of  hours  that  Don  Basilio  had  remained 
with  Fabrizio  he  had,  perhaps  unconsciously,  stood  aside  and 
apart  from  his  priesthood.  Had  Professor  Sacchetti  been  present, 
he  would  have  at  once  realised  that  the  spiritual  physician  he 
had  sent  to  his  patient  was  occupying  himself  in  making  his 
diagnosis  in  much  the  same  manner  as,  indeed  he  himself  had 
already  made  it.  The  priest  had  asked  no  questions.  He  had 
contented  himself  with  quiet  observation  and  the  exercise  of 
strong  mental  effort  to  establish  a  current  of  sympathy  between 
Fabrizio  and  himself.  He  had  carefully  abstained  from  any  at- 
tempts to  administer  religious  purgatives  ;  from  pointing  out  that 
the  position  in  which  Fabrizio  found  himself  was  the  obvious 
result  of  sin,  and  the  chastisement  of  an  offended  deity. 

By  degrees  something  in  Don  Basilio's  calm,  sympathetic 
manner,  something,  too,  in  the  quiet,  steady  gaze  of  his  soft, 
brown  eyes  had  established  in  Fabrizio  Vitali  the  first  beginnings 
of  that  confidence  which  the  priest  was  striving  to  create.  He 
had  said  little,  for  as  yet  his  mind  was  dazed  and  crushed  under 
the  weight  of  the  horror  that  had  fallen  on  him.  Broken  allu- 
sions to  that  horror,  occasional  expressions  which  betrayed  the 
existence  of  acute  mental  sufTering  were  all  that  fell  from  Fabrizio's 
lips ;  and  even  these  were  uttered  in  a  manner  which  caused 
Don  Basilio  to  doubt  whether  he  was  conscious  of  speaking 
them.  Sometimes,  however,  a  sudden  access  of  fear  seemed  to 
overpower  him,  a  fear  which  appeared  to  Don  Basilio  to  be  almost 
as  much  physical  as  mental. 

"  If  it  would  only  leave  me !  "  he  had  muttered  during  one  of 


TEMPTATION  363 

these  moments.  "If  I  could  only  forget  it  and  never  hear  it 
again." 

And  then  Don  Basilio  had  bent  towards  him,  and  had  said  to 
him  gently,  "  What  do  you  hear?  what  is  it  that  troubles  you  ?  " 

It  was  the  only  question  the  priest  asked ;  and  the  answer  had 
startled  him. 

"Their  laugh,"  Fabrizio  had  replied.  "Hers,  and  Donna 
Giulia's.     When  I  hear  it,  I  feel  that  I  must  go  mad." 

Don  Basilio  looked  at  him  steadily.  "  That  is  nonsense,"  he 
said  quietly.  "  By  degrees,  you  will  not  hear  it  any  more." 
For  the  first  time  the  thought  that  this  was  not  the  only  tragedy 
of  the  kind  which  had  occurred  in  Palazzo  Vitali  struck  Don 
Basilio.  What  connection,  he  wondered,  could  there  be  in 
Fabrizio  Vitali's  mind  between  the  crime  of  nearly  three 
centuries  ago  and  its  counterpart  of  to-day  ?  There  must  be 
something  over  which  Fabrizio  was  brooding — some  reason  for 
his  associating  in  his  mind  the  woman  who  had  been  long  dead 
and  the  woman  who  had  taken  her  own  life.  It  might  be  mere 
coincidence — a  perfectly  natural  association  of  ideas — or  it  might 
be  something  more  than  this.  Don  Basilio's  interest  was  keenly 
aroused — more  keenly,  perhaps,  than  would  have  been  the  case 
had  Fabrizio  VitaH  been  evidently  only  a  prey  to  remorse  for  his 
indirect  responsibility  for  his  cousin's  death  and  horror  at  his  fate 
and  that  of  the  woman  who  had  murdered  him.  Fabrizio's  words, 
Don  Basilio  felt,  pointed  at  something  more  than  this,  and  he 
suspected  that  they  were  by  no  means  the  incoherent  and 
reasonless  utterances  of  a  man  under  the  influence  of  a  severe 
mental  and  moral  shock. 

Experience  had  taught  Don  Basilio  that  many  influences  were 
at  work  in  the  world,  and  perhaps  among  them  the  influences  of 
people  and  deeds  long  passed  hence  and  forgotten.  As  he 
listened  to  Fabrizio  Vitali's  words  and  heard  his  reply  to  the 
question  he  had  asked  him,  something  told  him  that  he  now 
possessed  a  clue  which  would  lead  him  to  discover  the  original 
causes  of  the  young  man's  mental  suffering.  He  told  himself 
that  it  would  take  time  to  follow  this  clue,  and  that  he  could 
only  hope  to  do  so  by  gradually  winning  Fabrizio's  entire  trust 


364  TEMPTATION 

and  confidence.  Even  now,  though  so  little  had  passed  between 
them,  Fabrizio  appeared  calmed  and  soothed  by  the  priest's 
presence.  He  had  left  promising  to  return  to  him  the  following 
day,  and  in  a  few  simple  words  had  succeeded  in  conveying  to 
Fabrizio  that  he  could  both  understand  and  sympathise  with  him 
in  his  trouble.  The  very  assurance  of  this,  unaccompanied  as  it 
had  been  by  any  attempt  to  offer  so-called  spiritual  consolation, 
had  produced  its  effect  on  Fabrizio ;  and  this,  Don  Basilio 
knew,  was  already  a  step  gained  towards  the  goal  he  had  in 
view. 

On  leaving  Palazzo  Vitali  that  evening,  Don  Basilio  felt  that 
he  had  yet  before  him  the  most  difficult  task  of  his  troubled  day. 
It  was  dark  long  before  he  reached  Villa  Falconara,  and  he  was 
weary  both  bodily  and  mentally  from  the  strain  of  the  last  few 
hours. 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice,  always  thoughtful  for  others,  would 
have  persuaded  him  to  return  to  his  own  house  and  rest ;  assuring 
him  that,  since  she  now  knew  the  worst,  he  could  come  to 
her  the  following  morning  in  order  to  give  her  further  details.  To 
this,  however,  Don  Basilio  refused  to  consent,  and  he  and  the 
duchessa  dined  alone  together.  Vittoria  herself  made  a  very 
apparent  pretence  at  eating,  but  she  insisted  on  Don  Basilio 
making  a  more  genuine  effort  which,  having  had  but  little  food 
that  day,  he  recognised  the  necessity  for  doing.  The  m.eal  was 
a  short  one,  and  both  were  relieved  when  it  was  over  and  the 
servants  were  no  longer  in  attendance  listening  to  every  word 
that  was  said. 

Concerning  the  actual  tragedy  of  Ugo  Vitali's  death  and  that 
other  tragedy  which  had  so  swiftly  followed  it,  there  was,  indeed, 
nothing  more  to  be  said.  Vittoria,  as  Don  Basilio  quickly  per- 
ceived, could  not  trust  herself  to  speak  about  it  in  any  direct 
way ;  and  he,  also,  was  glad  to  shun  the  subject  as  much  as  it 
was  possible  to  do  so. 

One  thing  he  had  noticed  with  sorrow  as  soon  as  he  had  seen 
her  again.  The  look  which  had  been  on  her  face  that  morning 
when  she  had  first  received  the  tidings  from  Viterbo  was  still 
there — harder,   if  anything,   and   more   accentuated  than  ever. 


TEMPTATION  365 

Well  had  Sacchetti  foreseen  what  Fabrizio  Vitali  would  have  to 
encounter  when  he  had  declared  that,  however  much  Fabrizio 
might  be  innocent  of  any  part  in  or  foreknowledge  of  his  cousin's 
murder,  only  a  very  small  minority  would  believe  in  his  innocence. 
The  Duchessa  di  San  Felice,  it  was  evident,  was  not  disposed 
to  be  of  the  minority.  She  displayed  bitter  indignation  when  she 
learned  that  Fabrizio  had  not  as  yet  been  charged  with  complicity 
in  Countess  Vitali's  deed.  No  words  Don  Basilio  could  say  were 
successful  in  shaking  her  conviction  that  the  crime  had  been  long 
premeditated  and  prearranged  between  Cristina  and  her  lover. 
In  vain  Don  Basilio  assured  her  that  both  he  and  Sacchetti  had 
good  reasons  for  being  convinced  of  Fabrizio  Vitali's  entire 
ignorance  of  Countess  Vitali's  terrible  resolve.  The  fact  that,  in 
her  written  confession  of  her  crime  Countess  Vitali  had  expressly 
declared  that  she  and  she  alone  had  conceived  and  carried  it  into 
execution,  and  that  she  had  never  intended  to  allow  Fabrizio  to 
know  of  or  suspect  its  commission,  was  dismissed  contemptuously 
by  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  as  a  palpable  attempt  to  throw  dust  in 
the  eyes  of  the  authorities. 

Don  Basilio  found  himself  compelled  to  abandon  for  the 
moment  any  hope  of  inducing  the  duchessa  to  alter  her  opinion. 
The  feeling  that  she  would  be  among  the  ranks  of  those  who 
would  for  ever  regard  Fabrizio  Vitali  as  guilty  of  having  connived 
at  his  cousin's  murder,  even  though  the  law  might  not  be  able 
to  touch  him,  troubled  Don  Basilio  not  a  little.  The  Duchessa  di 
San  Felice's  influence  was  great,  and  he  knew  that  she  could  use 
it,  if  she  so  chose,  in  many  quarters.  Moreover,  it  might  be 
that,  after  all,  she  was  right,  and  that  some  secret  understanding 
had  existed  between  Countess  Vitali  and  her  lover  as  to  the 
means  whereby  Count  Vitali  should  be  removed  from  their  path. 
The  duchessa  had  been  right  when  she  had  insisted  on  believing 
the  popular  rumour  that  Ugo  Vitali  had  been  murdered,  and 
might  she  not  be  equally  so  in  refusing  to  allow  that  Fabrizio 
could  have  been  in  ignorance  that  such  a  crime  was  in 
contemplation  ? 

Notwithstanding  his  conviction  of  Fabrizio  Vitali's  innocence, 
Don  Basilio  felt  that,  until  he  should  have  won  his  full  confidence, 


366  TEMPTATION 

it  would  be  wiser  not  to  attempt  to  overcome  the  duchessa's  pre- 
judices by  argument.  He  was  conscious,  moreover,  of  having 
no  reasonable  argument  to  advance,  since  his  personal  opinion, 
even  though  this  opinion  was  shared  by  Professor  Sacchetti, 
could  scarcely  be  called  an  argument.  Time  alone  could  show 
what  attitude  Fabrizio  Vitali  would  eventually  take ;  if,  indeed, 
remorse,  and  horror  at  the  crime  he  had  indirectly  brought 
about,  did  not  produce  that  state  of  desperation  which  Sacchetti 
dreaded  for  him. 

The  following  day,  as  he  had  promised  he  would  do,  Don 
Basilio  returned  to  Palazzo  Vitali. 

Taddeo  met  him  at  the  entrance. 

"  The  signor  professore  is  with  him,"  he  said  in  response  to 
the  priest's  inquiry  after  Fabrizio.  "  The  signor  conte  is — " 
he  paused,  and  tapped  his  forehead  significantly. 

Don  Basilio  grew  suddenly  pale.  "  Yesterday  evening 
when  I  left  the  signor  conte,"  he  said,  "he  was  certainly 
more  composed.  Has  anything  occurred  further  to  upset 
him?" 

Taddeo  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Is  not  what  has  already 
occurred  sufficient  ?  "  he  asked  drily.  "  Sicuro — the  signor  conte 
is  mad.  He  declares  that  he  hears  nothing  but  laughter,  peals 
of  laughter.  He  escaped  from  his  room  last  night,  while  the 
infermiere  was  asleep.  Before  that,  he  had  been  quite  quiet,  for 
hours.  He  was  found  in  the  gallery,  unconscious — and — 
and " 

"And  what  ?  "  exclaimed  Don  Basilio  quickly. 

"Reverendo,"  said  the  old  man  in  a  whisper,  "lying  on  the 
floor  of  the  gallery  we  found  Donna  Giulia's  portrait.  He  must 
have  torn  it  down  from  the  wall  and  destroyed  it.  The  canvas  of 
the  picture  is  torn  to  shreds." 

Don  Basilio  was  silent  for  a  moment  or  two. 

"Is  he  still  unconscious  ?"  he  asked. 

"Ah,  no,  but  he  raves.  Sometimes  he  Is  quiet;  and  then, 
quite  suddenly,  he  thinks  he  hears  the  laughter.  It  is  a 
judgment — the  judgment  of  God.  Ah,  reverendo — I  did  what  I 
could !    When  I  knew  how  it  was  between  the  Conte  Fabrizio 


TEMPTATION  367 

and — and  that  woman,  I  warned  him  that  it  would  end  ill.  It 
was  impossible  that  such  a  fnaV  augurio  as  the  fall  of  the  Christ 
on  to  his  bed,  the  very  night  of  his  coming  to  Palazzo  Vitali, 
should  have  been  sent  for  nothing.  But  he  would  not  be  warned. 
That  evil  woman  had  already  bewitched  him." 

"  The  crucifix  fell  a  second  time,  I  think  you  told  me,"  said 
Don  Basilio  thoughtfully. 

Taddeo  glanced  at  him  quickly.  "  Sicuro,"  he  replied  hesitat- 
ingly. "  But  the  second  time,  reverendo,"  he  added,  after  a  slight 
pause,  "  it  was  I  who  placed  it  on  the  Conte  Fabrizio's  pillows, 
where  it  had  fallen  before." 

"  Yo2i  1 "  exclaimed  Don  Basilio. 

"Yes.  It  was  the  night  I  followed  them  into  the  gardens,  and 
saw  and  heard  all  I  told  you,  reverendo.  I  thought  that  if  I 
could  frighten  him,  he  would  go  away,  or  at  least  that  he  would 
accept  the  warning.  I  went  to  Donna  Giulia's  room — his  room — 
and  tore  the  Christ  from  the  wall,  so  that  he  might  find  the  cross 
again  on  his  pillows.  But  it  was  of  no  use.  The  first  time  I 
knew  that  the  Conte  Fabrizio  had  been  alarmed  by  the  evil  omen — 
but  this  second  time  he  only  laughed.  After  that,  I  wrote  the 
anonymous  letter  to  the  poor  signor  conte — anima  benedetta — 
and  Taddeo  crossed  himself.  "Did  I  do  very  wrong?"  he  asked. 
"  I  could  think  of  no  other  way,  and  the  poor  signor  conte  saw 
nothing,  suspected  nothing  !  " 

Don  Basilio  did  not  answer  him.  Indeed,  he  scarcely  seemed 
to  hear  what  the  old  servant  was  telling  him,  so  absorbed  was  he 
in  his  own  thoughts. 

As  they  were  proceeding  in  the  direction  of  the  room  which 
Fabrizio  Vitali  was  occupying.  Professor  Sacchetti  met  them.  His 
face  lightened  up  when  he  saw  the  priest. 

"  I  have  more  need  of  your  services  than  ever,"  he  said. 
"  He  " — and  he  made  a  quick  motion  with  his  head — "  is  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  mad — but  it  is  a  madness  which  will  pass — 
which  musf  pass.  Only,  there  are  things  about  the  case  which  I 
do  not  understand.  Taddeo  will  have  told  you  what  happened 
in  the  night.  That  he  should  have  gone  to  the  gallery,  is  perhaps 
natural.     It  was  there  he  found  the  contessa — dead.     But  why 


368  TEMPTATION 

should  he  have  destroyed  the  picture  ?  and  what  is  the  meaning 
of  this  laughter  which  he  believes  he  hears  ?  These  things  I  do 
not  understand." 

"I  think  that  I  understand  them,"  said  Don  Basilio,  in 
a  low  voice.  "  I  think  so,"  he  repeated,  "  but  I  am  not  yet 
sure." 

The  professor  looked  at  him  curiously.  He  knew  something 
of  the  theories  Don  Basilio  held,  for  they  had  more  than  once 
had  some  discussions  together  on  the  subject. 

"  If  you  do,  amico  mio,"  he  said  briefly,  "  so  much  the 
better.  You  may  be  able  to  save  his  reason,  for  if  this  state  of 
things  were  to  continue,  he  might  easily  become  permanently 
insane." 

"  I  shall  try  to  save  his  reason,"  answered  Don  Basilio,  "  and 
his  soul."  He  spoke  very  quietly,  almost  as  though  speaking  to 
himself. 

The  professor  frowned  a  little. 

"  As  to  his  soul,"  he  said,  drily,  "  that,  from  my  point 
of  view,  is  an  altogether  secondary  affair.  It  seems  to  me 
that  Domeniddio  may  very  well  be  trusted  to  look  after  his 
soul." 

"  If  I  could  get  him  to  believe  that,"  observed  Don  Basiho,  "  I 
should  probably  succeed  in  saving  his  reason.  I  think  you  said 
yesterday  that  despair  was  what  you  dreaded  for  him,  did 
you  not  ?  " 

"  Bravo  !  Bravo  ! "  exclaimed  Professor  Sacchetti.  "  I  forgot  to 
whom  I  was  talking.  Perbacco,  Don  Basilio,  if  all  priests  were 
as  sensible  as  you,  we  doctors  should  not  delay  handing  over  our 
patients  to  them  until  we  realised  that  we  could  do  no  more  our- 
selves 1  But  how  do  you  account  for  the  peculiarities  of  the 
case — the  things  you  say  you  think  you  understand?  " 

Don  Basilio  glanced  at  Taddeo.  "  You  need  not  remain,"  he 
said  to  him.  "  I  wish  to  have  some  conversation  with  the  signer 
professore." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how  you  account  for  them,"  repeated 
the  professor,  when  Taddeo  had  left  the  room. 

Don    Basilio   shrugged    his    shoulders.      "Very   simply,"   he 


TEMPTATION  369 

replied.  *'  At  least,"  he  added,  *'  very  simply  from  my  pomt  of 
view.  That  unfortunate  young  man  is  still  struggling  with  an 
evil  influence.  Unless  you  rid  him  of  this  influence,  your 
treatment,  my  dear  friend,  will  be  of  little  use.  Precisely  what,  or 
whose  this  influence  is,  one  has  yet  to  learn — but  one  may 
guess." 

"  That  woman's — the  contessa's,  presumably — from  your  point 
of  view,"  said  Professor  Sacchetti. 

Don  Basilio  hesitated.  "  Directly,  perhaps — yes,"  he  observed. 
"  But  by  whom,  or  by  what,  was  that  unhappy  woman  influenced  ? 
Was  she  acting  spontaneously,  so  to  speak — or  by  suggestion  ? 
I  am  not  at  liberty  to  tell  you  what  I  learned,  or  believe  I  learned, 
from  your  patient  yesterday.  All  I  dare  tell  you  is,  that  I  am  not 
surprised  at  what  occurred  last  night.  I  find  it  perfectly  in 
accordance  with  my  diagnosis  of  the  case  that  Count  Fabrizio 
should  have  gone  to  the  gallery,  and  that  he  should  have  destroyed 
the  portrait  of  Donna  Giulia  Vitali.  Have  you  forgotten  her 
history,  professore  ?  " 

Professor  Sacchetti  started.  "  Diavolo  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  I 
had  forgotten  it — yes,  until  this  moment.  It  is  an  extraordinary 
coincidence,"  he  added. 

Don  Basilio  glanced  at  him.  "  God  does  not  deal  in 
coincidences,"  he  observed.  "  Nature,  the  whole  history  of 
creation,  teaches  us  that.  Perhaps,"  he  continued,  with  one  of 
his  slight,  ironical  smiles,  "  that  other  Power  whose  representative 
you  named  just  now,  may  do  so,  and  therefore  may  be  more 
easily  defeated  in  the  end." 

The  professor  looked  at  him  gravely,  and  for  a  moment  or  two 
he  was  silent. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  it  would  be  as  well  if  you  would 
go  to  him.  If  your  theory  be  correct,  the  sooner  you  commence 
your  cure,  the  better,  my  friend.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  laugh  at 
you ;  but  I  do  not." 

"  I  am  glad  he  destroyed  that  picture,"  said  Don  Basilio 
suddenly. 

Professor  Sacchetti  gave  a  slight  gesture  of  impatience. 
"  Ma  ! "   he   exclaimed.      "  I   cannot   see   that   it   matters.      It 

2A 


370  TEMPTATION 

is  a  sign  of  madness  —  temporary,  we  will  hope  —  but  still 
madness." 

Don  Basilio  shook  his  head. 

"  Niente  affatto,  caro  professore  ! "  he  replied.  "  It  is  a  sign 
that  he  is  fighting.  He  only  needs  an  ally.  Now,  if  you  please, 
will  you  take  me  to  Count  Fabrizio's  room  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

SUMMER  had  come  again,  and  nearly  eight  months  had 
elapsed  since  the  tragedy  which  had  startled  all  Italy  had 
taken  place  in  the  ancient  city  of  Viterbo.  Uaffare  Vitali,  as  for 
many  weeks  it  had  been  generally  called,  had  become  almost  a 
matter  of  history  in  a  country  in  which  domestic  tragedies  are 
neither  few  nor  far  between. 

Largely  owing  to  the  exertions  of  Professor  Sacchetti,  whose 
reputation  stood  above  all  suspicion  to  any  connivance  to  defeat 
the  ends  of  justice,  the  authorities  had  quickly  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  were  no  possible  grounds  for  taking  any 
proceedings  against  Count  Fabrizio  Vitali  for  complicity  in  his 
cousin's  murder. 

Nevertheless,  as  both  the  professor  and  Don  Basilio  had  fore- 
seen, the  world  at  large  declined  to  believe  in  Fabrizio  Vitali's 
innocence;  and  those  were  in  the  majority  who  declared  that 
Italian  justice  had  once  again  afforded  a  proof  of  its  corruption 
and  impotency. 

The  sun  was  setting  over  the  lovely  valley  of  the  Arno.  The 
soft  breeze  of  a  June  evening  stole  down  from  the  Tuscan  hills, 
bringing  with  it  the  scent  of  roses,  of  white  Madonna  lilies,  and 
all  the  flowers  that  blossom  in  the  Garden  of  Italy  and  breathe 
forth  their  sweet  incense  to  Santa  Maria  dei  Fiori. 

Outside  the  gateway  of  an  old  villa  remotely  situated  on  the 
heights  of  Settignano,  a  carriage  was  waiting,  and  the  coachman 
had  drawn  up  his  horses  in  the  shade  of  a  group  of  cypress  trees, 
from  the  sombre  branches  of  which  cascades  of  roses  in  full 
bloom  were  hanging  in  luxurious  profusion. 

In  the  distance  the  great  bell  of  the  Duomo  at  Florence  was 
booming  furiously,  for  it  was  the  vigil  of  a  festa. 

The  villa,  which  lay  buried  in  the  gardens  surrounding  it,  was 
invisible  from  the  narrow,  secluded   lane   into  which   its   gates 

371 


872  TEMPTATION 

opened.  Formerly  the  country  residence  of  a  well-known 
Florentine  family,  it  had  been  for  some  years  occupied  by  a 
small  community  of  Oratorians  and  was  used  by  that  community 
more  as  a  house  of  retreat  than  as  a  monastery  in  the  usual  sense 
of  the  term. 

The  coachman  had  waited  more  than  half  an  hour  in  the  dusty 
lane  beneath  the  high  wall  surrounding  the  grounds  of  the  villa, 
and  he  was  beginning  to  get  drowsy  when  the  custode  appeared 
at  the  great  iron  gates  and  proceeded  to  unbolt  them.  A  lady, 
accompanied  by  two  men,  one  of  whom  was  a  priest,  came 
slowly  down  the  ilex  avenue,  and  the  coachman  backed  his 
horses  so  as  to  bring  the  carriage  opposite  the  gates. 

The  lady  was  Vittoria  di  San  Felice,  and  with  her  was  Don 
Basilio ;  while  their  companion  who,  though  dressed  entirely  in 
black,  was  a  layman,  was  Fabrizio  Vitali.  As  they  drew  nearer 
to  the  entrance  they  stopped  for  a  few  moments,  talking  earnestly. 
Then  Fabrizio  Vitali  took  leave  of  Vittoria  and  Don  Basilio,  and 
turning  away  disappeared  in  the  shadow  of  the  ilex  trees. 

Vittoria  di  San  Felice  looked  at  the  priest.  There  was  a  smile 
on  her  face,  but  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  I  am  glad  I  came,  Don  Basilio,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  as 
the  porter  let  them  through  the  cancello.  "  It — it  has  comforted 
him  to  see  me.    You  were  right  to  make  me  come  to  Florence." 

"  It  was  right  to  come  to  him,"  Don  Basilio  said  gently,  "  but 
for  you,  duchessa,  it  has  been  a  trial.  Nobody  knows  that  better 
than  he  does,  except  myself." 

"  Let  us  walk  a  little,"  said  Vittoria.  **  Tell  the  man  to  drive 
on,  and  wait  for  us  in  the  main  road,  and  we  will  walk  down  the 
hill.  Yes — I  have  been  hard,  and  misjudged  him.  I  know  now 
how  greatly  I  have  misjudged  him — but  you,  you  believed 
throughout  in  his  innocence — and  you  have  saved  him,  body 
and  soul." 

"  Not  I,"  replied  Don  Basilio  quietly. 

"  God — through  you !  He  said  that  peace  was  coming  back 
to  him — peace,  after  all  he  has  been  through  !  He  told  me  that 
during  those  terrible  weeks  you  fought  for  him — fought  until 
sometimes  even  your  physical  strength  nearly  failed  you.     And 


TEMPTATION  373 

yet  you  never  said  a  word  to  me — you  allowed  me  to  continue  to 
misjudge  him,  to  speak  of  him  as  a  vile  assassin,  until " 

"  Until  God  won  the  victory,  and  the  evil  departed  from  him," 
interrupted  Don  Basilio,  as  she  paused. 

Vittoria  shuddered.  "  If  I  had  known  that  she — that  terrible 
woman — had  made  him  believe  that  of  Ugo  and  me,"  she  said 
'*  I  should  have  understood  better," 

"  How  could  I  tell  you  ?  "  asked  Don  Basilio.  "  Besides,  he 
made  me  promise  that  I  would  never  tell  you.  He  looked  for- 
ward to  the  day  when  he  might  ask  you  to  come  to  him  in  order 
that  he  might  tell  you  himself." 

"  Was  she  a  devil  ?"  whispered  Vittoria. 

"  No — because,  in  her  own  way,  she  loved  him,  and  she  killed 
herself  when  she  knew  that  she  had  lost  his  love.  God  will 
remember  if  there  was  but  one  unselfish  thought  in  her  love, 
however  perverted  that  love  was.  No — she  was  not  a  devil,  but 
she  was  possessed  by  an  evil  spirit  that  had  entered  into  an 
abode,  finding  it  swept  and  garnished.  More  I  cannot  tell  you, 
figlia  mia,  for  my  lips  are  sealed." 

"Will  he  become  a  monk?"  asked  Vittoria  di  San  Felice, 
presently. 

Don  Basilio  shook  his  head.  " Never,"  he  said.  "He  will  go 
back  into  the  world  some  day,  under  the  name  he  has  assumed 
now.  He  will  work,  in  the  world  and  for  the  world ;  and  so  he 
will  keep  that  peace  which  is  daily  coming  to  him.  Of  course 
he  will  never  return  to  Palazzo  Vitali.  People  will  continue  to 
think,  as  they  think  now,  that  Count  Vitali  has  fled  the  country 
because  he  is  a  man  branded  as  an  assassin.  Perhaps  you  do 
not  know — he  did  not  tell  you — that  he  has  already  made 
arrangements  to  divide  his  inheritance  among  various  institutions. 
He  has  full  power  to  do  so,  since  he  has  no  heirs.  It  will  not 
be  publicly  known  for  another  year.  He  has  kept  nothing, 
duchessa,  except  that  he  has  made  a  provision  for  his  mother 
with  whom  he  will  eventually  live.  In  a  year  Palazzo  Vitali  and 
the  lands  will  be  sold." 

"  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  turned  and  looked  at  him.  "  If  that 
is  so,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  shall  buy  them.    Ugo  would  have 


374  TEMPTATION 

wished  it.  My  sons  will  keep  the  lands  always — for  they  loved 
him.  The  Vitali  property  shall  not  pass  into  the  hands  of 
strangers  while  I  am  alive." 

They  descended  the  hill  together,  and  below,  in  the  high  road 
leading  to  Florence,  they  could  see  the  carriage  awaiting  them 
which  would  take  them  back  to  the  city.  On  the  morrow  Vittoria 
di  San  Felice  was  to  leave  Italy  for  the  north  of  Europe  where 
she  intended  to  pass  the  summer.  They  lingered  awhile  on  their 
way,  watching  the  sunset  glow  deepening  over  the  hills,  and 
turning  the  distant  Arno  into  a  river  of  flame. 

"  I  am  glad  I  went  to  him,"  repeated  Vittoria,  speaking  her 
thoughts  aloud.  "Perhaps  I  have  brought  him  more  peace. 
Ah,  but  it  was  a  terrible  thing — a  diabolical  thing — of  that  un- 
happy woman  to  lead  him  to  believe — "  she  checked  herself 
suddenly.  "  After  all,"  she  continued,  "  it  is  not  for  me  to  judge 
her.  She  was  possessed  of  an  evil  spirit,  you  say — and,  if  that 
was  so,  she  was  not  responsible.  Besides,  have  I  not  misjudged 
enough  ?  I  have  only  one  wish  now — that  she  may  find  the 
peace  which  Fabrizio  Vitali  is  finding.     And  for  us " 

"  £/  ne  nos  inducas  in  tentationem,  sed  libera  nos  a  malo" 
interposed  Don  Basilio,  taking  off  his  broad,  black  hat,  as  he 
said  the  words. 

"  Amen,"  said  Vittoria  di  San  Felice  softly. 


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